Murder One
by IronAngel240
Summary: What is worse to live without love, or to die for love? What if your whole existence was decided for you. Who you would love, how you would die. Could you truly love someone if you knew they were destined to kill you? What if you experienced this time and time again. Could you continue to love the very thing that was killing you?
1. Chapter 1

What is worse to live without love, or to die for love? What if your whole existence was decided for you. Who you would love, how you would die. Could you truly love someone if you knew they were destined to kill you? What if you experienced this time and time again. Could you continue to love the very thing that was killing you?

Michael Barret gazed out the kitchen window at the well tended lawn. It was November 23, 09:30 p.m. in the city of Las Vegas, and Michael's wife Vanessa Barret was still not home. It was nothing out of the ordinary as Vanessa was often never home before ten p.m. these days. Michael had understood, at first; Vanessa loved her job and hoped to one day become District Attorney. As such, she had already made it to Assistent DA, but lately her job was conflicting with her home life and wreaking havoc on their marriage.

"Daddy, I can't sleep."

Michael turned and saw his five year old daughter standing in the doorway, her bunny rabbit teddy bear tucked under her arm. Her blonde curls fell past her shoulders and her green eyes were sleepy.

"Kimmy, youbshould be in bed. It's way past your bedtime," Michael crossed the kitchen, picked his daughter up under her arms and carried her to her bedroom. As Michael put his daughter back in bed she asked in a small voice, "When is mommy coming home?"

Michael clenched his jaw and tried to keep the anger out of his voice as he answered, "Soon, Baby. I know she will come kiss goodnight when she gets home."

_After she gets the fight of her life_, thought Michael. "Would you like me to read to you?"

Kimmy nodded her head as she tucked her teddy under her chin. Michael picked up the book of fairy tales that Vanessa bought Kimmy for her last birthday. As he was about to start reading, the doorbell rang.

"Maybe that's Mom now," said Michael as he put the book down and getting up. It was not strange for Vanessa to lose her keys; she was often to busy on her BlackBerry to keep track of her other knick knacks

Michael walked down the hall towards the fron door. He unlocked the door and yanked it open ready to chew Vanessa out for being late again. But when ne opened the door he was greeted with a black fist sailing towards his face. Pain exploded from his now broken nose. The force of the blow sent him sprawling onto the floor. Through his watering eyes, Michael saw a pair of black boots step in through the doorand then closed it behind him. Thes attacker stepped over Michael and began to walk down the hall towards Kimmy's room. Michael struggled to his feet, desperate to keep this asshole away from his daughter.

Michael stumbled and braced himself against the wall, but he continued to slowly make his way forward. He pushed himself off the wall and launched himself at his attacker. Michael's momentum brought him and the attacker crashing to the ground. The attacker managed to get to his feet quickly. He turned and kicked Michael in the stomach three times. The wind knocked out of him, Michael lay gasping on the floor, unable to get up. The attacker grabbed Michael by the hair and pulled him up. Michael felt as if his hair was being teared out by their roots. Suddenly, Michael felt something cold and hard pressed against his exposed throat. Michael swallowed hard and he felt the blade pierce his skin slightly; he could hear the heavy breathing of his attacker behind him. Michael tried to ram his elbow into the attacker's solar plexus, but he just pressed the knife harder against Michael's throat.

"Daddy!"

Michael tried to yell at Kimmy to run, but his voice came out in a rough, hoarse whisper. The attacker lifted the knife from Michael's throat and spun Michael around. Michael stared up at his attacker who seemed impossibly tall. Michael's eyes widened and hus pulse began to thump in his ears as he watched the glistening blade descend. Once, twice, three times the blade sliced into his neck. The blade then descended twice more into his chest. Michael felt the life flow out of him as his blood gushed from his wounds like milk from a spilt carton. The attacker let go and Michael's limp body fell to the ground.

In his last few seconds of life Michael watched as his attacker step over him. His arms at his side blood dripping fromthe tip of his knife,he made his way into Kimmy's room.

Gil Grissom crouched down and trailed the beam of his flashlight over the body that lay face down on the carpet before him. In his mid to late forties, Grissom had salt and pepper curls and a clean shaven face and his brooding blue eyes took in all the evidence that lay before him.

"Kitchen knife?"

Grissom did not look up at his second in command, Catherine Willows, as his eyes continued to trail over the body.

"Could be," he said, "let's be sure to take an inventory of the kitchen."

Catherine nodded her head thoughtfully, "You're thinking weapon of opportunity?"

Grissom shook his head, "Unlikely; the main struggle is ranged from the front door, up the hall, and ends here infront of the bedroom. There is no sign that the killer went through the house." Grissom looked up at Catherine and said, "Still, let's check out the kitchen."

Catherine nodded her head and her short, strawberry blonde hair bounced around her beautiful face. Just then David Philips, the Assistent Coroner, arrived and Grissom got up to carefully move away from the body in order to allow David room to work. David knelt by before the body and pulled out a liver probe from his bag.

"Sorry, I'm late, guys," he said as he pierced the skin of the Vic's abdomen.

"S'okay, Dave, we just got here ourselves," said Catherine as she pulled out her camera.

"We could use a time of death, David," said Grissom crossing his arms as he watched David do his work.

"Well, rigor mortis has set in. So, I'd put TOD at 09:30 p.m." David gently turned the body over and lifted the shirt. There was a purplish discolouration on the D.B.'s stomach. "Lividity is fixed and consistent with him dying on his stomach," David looked up at them, "We'll have more after autopsy."

"I'll send someone in to collect the body as soon as you are finished," said David as he stood up.

"Thanks, Dave," said Catherine as David left.

"Cast off and arterial spray on the ceiling," said Catherine, returning to her examination as she shone her flshlight overhead.

"On the walls too," said Grissom jerking his head towards the left. Catherine swung the beam of her flashlight in the direction Grissom pointed out. She then lifted the camera that hung around her neck to her eye and documented the blood covered photo's on the wall. Grissom knelt by the body again. Grissom shook his head sadly as he said, "Alot of rage went into this stabbing."

"You think it was personal?" Catherine said.

"It is a reasonable first blush theory," said Grissom.

Lifting the hand of their Vic, Grissom checked underneath his fingernails, hoping that the victim had maybe gotten a piece of his attacker. No such luck, unfortunately. However, there was a piece of black fibre. Grissom picked up the fibre with a pair of tweezers he had pulled from his CSI vest. Turning, something caught Grissom's eye near the body.

"Hey, Cath?"

Catherine turned towards her boss.

"Get a shot of this footprint, would you?"

Catherine looked to where Grissom was pointing and, sure enough, there in the pool of dark red blood, was a smudged shoe print. Although it was smudged, there was still enough detail for them to I.D. the make.

"Man's size 11 by the look of it...a boot maybe?" said Catherine as she snapped off a couple of dozen pictures whilst Grissom placed a marker beside the shieprint.

Grissom nodded silently and returned to the body. Catherine then turned and began documenting the rest of the footprints that led down the hall.

Just then the front door opened and the Captain of Homicide James Brass came in. Brass skirted along the wall, careful not to disturb any potential evidence.

"Vic's name is Michael Barret, computer programer," Brass said when he reached them.

"Barret, as in Vanessa Barret. As in ADA Barret?" asked Catherine.

Brass nodded his head solemnly, "Yup, she's the wife. She's also the one who found the body."

"Shit," cussed Catherine. With all the stress of just the normal press coverage, they didn't need this as well.

"You guys been in the room, yet?" asked Brass.

"I've got Sara and Warrick working the missing girl," said Grissom as he took the camera from Catherine and documented the body.

"We have an Amber alert out on Kimmy Barret," said Brass.

"Anything else you can tell us?" asked Grissom as he and Catherine continued to work.

"Mrs. Barret got in at about 12:00. She opened the door, saw her husband and immediately ran to her daughter's room. When she couldn't find Kimmy, she caled 911."

"Wait a sec," said Catherine, "Did you say she discovered the body at 12:00?

"Yeah," confirmed Brass.

"Dispatch didn't get the call 'til 12:30," Catherine pointed out.

Grissom looked up sharply at Brass.

"Yeah, I noticed that, but I didn't get time to ask her about that before her mother stepped in. And guess what her mother does for a living?" said Brass.

"Attorney?" asked Grissom.

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner," said Brass dryly. "She said we could talk to Vanessa once she has a chance to gather her thoughts."

"And get her story straight," said Catherine. Grissom and Brass stared at her.

Catherine threw her hands up in the hair and said in a defensive tone, "Hey, we're all thinking it, I'm just saying it! First on the scene, first suspect."

"She has a point, Jim," said Grissom.

Before Brass could answer the front door opened and Nick Stokes walked in.

"I just finished checking the perimeter," said Nick as he made his way over to them, "There is no signs of forced entry on the door, so the Vic probably let his attacker in. Nothing else except that I found some acceleration tracks right outside the house. The tracks don't match either of the Barret's cars."

Grissom nodded his head and said, "Nick, I want you to take the evidence we have so far and head back to the lab. Start fast tracking the processing. This case is priority one, you hear?"

Nick nodded his head solemnlymand said, "You got it, Boss."

And with that Nick collected the evidence bags and headed out.

"I'm gonna go check with my uni's, see if they have collected all the statements," said Brass as he, too, left.

"I'll check out the kitchen," said Catherine.

Grissom nodded as he entered into Kimmy's room. The bedroom was every little girl's dream. All pink and purple with stuffed animals lining the wall. The first person that drew Grissom's eye when he walked into the room was Sara Sidle. Well, his eyes were always drawn to her first. Ever since she had first walked into his classroom 2 years ago. Her shoulder length, brown hair hung in loose curls around her face, just the way Grissom loved it. Grissom clenched his jaw and pushed his emotions deep down as he turned to his other CSI, Warrick Brown, who was taking pictures of Kimmy's closet.

"What do we have so far?" asked Grissom.

"There are definite signs of a struggle," said Sara as she turned to face him. "There's a story book and a glass that's been knocked off the table and there are scratch marks on the door. Kimmy could have tried to grab onto the door."

"Perp took some of her clothes," called Warrick.

"Could mean he's planning to keep her alive for a while," said Grissom thoughtfully. "Keep working, we only have forty eight hours before our chances of finding this girl severly diminishes ."

Grissom left Sara and Warrick to their work and went out into the hall. He frowned when he saw the front door standing slightly ajar. Grissom instinctively looked towards the body and saw a stranger, dressed entirely in black, kneeling over the body.

"Excues me?" said Grissom as he placed his latexed hand on his gun (something he hardly ever wore) that was holstered at his hip, "Can I help you?"

The black clad stranger stood slowly and turned to face him. The stranger was not what Grissom was expecting.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own anything created by cbs. I only own my original characters and stories.**

**Hey everyone! I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter of my Guardian series. I am very new to writing fanfiction, so bare with me and I assure you this will be an awesome story. Murder One is set circa season 2, and I will be keeping the timeline and events cannon. I'm not sure if I will be using the crimes from the series, but I will be keeping the character's stories. Please review if you have any constructive criticism, or if you have any questions.**

**Thanks,**

**IronAngel420**

"Can I help you?" repeated Grissom as he let his arm relax against his side once again. The figure before him was a young woman. A _very_ young woman. Her outfit was entirely black, from her leather coat to her form-fitting jeans, from her long sleeved t-shirt to her boots. Even the satchel that hung around her body were black. Her small hands were covered with leather gloves. The girl had rich, dark brown hair that fell past her shoulders and around a beautiful face. She had dark brown eyes that were framed by thick lashes. The corners of her small, full mouth lifted in a soft smile as she said, "Dr. Gil Grissom?"

"Yes," said Grissom with a frown, "Who are you?"

"Griffin Bauer. We spoke on the phone earlier this week?" said the girl.

Grissom suddenly remembered the conversation and nodded saying, "Ah, yes, you are the CSI from Miami Dade."

"Yes, sir," said Griffin.

"You sounded...older on the phone," said Grissom warily.

Griffin smiled again and shrugged.

"How old are you exactly?" Grissom asked.

"A woman never reveals her age, sir," said Griffin, "but, seeing as you asked so nicely, I'm eighteen."

Grissom's eyebrows shot sky high upon hearing this.

"Are you old enough to even be out of high school?"

Griffin shrugged, "I skipped a few grades."

"So you are...what? An intern?"

"No, I am a CSI Level 2."

"Impossible!"

"I assure you, sir, it is quite possible. I could give you the number of the man who promoted me, if you'd like."

Grissom continued to eye her sceptically.

"Look, if my resume isn't enought to earn your confidence, then let my skills do the talking," said Griffin.

"Okay," said Grissom, "So let them talk."

Griffin nodded and returned her attention to the body. "What do you make of this?"

Grissom came and stood next to her. He looked to where the beam of her flashlight was pointed and squinted his eyes.

"These blood drops are out of place," said Griffin, referring to three blood drops that were a seperate from the main blood pool.

"It could be cast off," said Grissom.

"Yeah, I don't think so," disagreed Griffin, "The gravitational pull is wrong. The directionality of the drops are consistent with a left and straight up angel."

"So what is your theory?"Grissom asked.

"The killer cut himself," came her reply.

"Why do you say that?" asked Grissom, already knowing the answer.

"Stabbing is a messy job, eight out of ten times the attacker cuts himself."

"Well, there is one way to find out," said Grissom as he produced a cotton swab and took a sample of the blood.

"One more thing," said Griffin. "I noticed something strange on the Vic's neck."

Grissom looked closer as Griffin gently moved the hair away from Michael's neck. There just below the hairline was a deep cut.

"It looks like a backward 'r'," said Grissom frowning. "I wonder what the significance is of that?"

"I have never come across something like this before," said Griffin, "But, look at the skin surrounding the cut. It's not bruised. Michael was already dead when this mark was placed."

"Nice catch," complimented Grissom as he took out his camera and documented the find. The young girl just smiled as she straightened.

"Okay," said Grissom, "I will give you one shot. Consider this case a job interview. I will assess your skills and let you know at the end of the case what my decision is."

"Deal," said Griffin.

"Good," said Grissom, "Now, I need a sketch of the crime scene. Think you can handle that?"

"Sure."

Grissom handed the young CSI a sketch pad.

"Thanks," said Griffin, "But, I have my own."

Grissom shrugged as he replaced his sketch pad in his kit. He watched Griffin for a moment as her eyes roamed the crime scene, before her hand began to fly over the page, with the ease and skill of a trained artist.

Grissom and Griffin worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Catherine came out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Gil, you were right. The killer definitely didn't... I'm sorry, who are you?"

CSICSICSICSI

Sara Sidle took a deep breath as she packed up her field kit. God she hated working missing kids. She hated seeing the empty bedrooms, the abandoned toys. But what she hated the most was the hoplesss desperation in the eyes of the parents and the emptiness that replaced that desperation if they didn't find the children. Or worse they found them dead.

"You ready?" Warrick asked her.

"Yeah," said Sara as she took one last look around the room.

"You okay, Sar?"

Sara looked at him and said with a half smile,"I'm fine. I just hate cases like this, you know?"

"Yeah," said Warrick as he placed his hand on her shoulder, "I know."

Sara gave him one last smile before both of them exited the room.

"You wanna get some breakfast after we drop this stuff off at the lab?" Warrick asked.

"Sure, that sounds..." Sara's voice trailed off as she and Warrick came out into the hall and saw Catherine standing at in the doorway of the kitchen staring at a young stranger who stood next to Grissom as if she had been by his side for years.

"Uh, Griss? Who is this?" Warrick asked and Sara arched a questioning eyebrow.

"Guys," said Grissom, "This is Griffin Bauer. She will be joining us on this case. Griffin, this is Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, and Sara Sidle."

The girl acknowledged each of them with a nod and a smile, but when her eyes landed on Sara her whole body froze as if in shock. In turn, when Sara looked into those fathomless brown eyes she felt something inside her click in place. She felt as if she had been held under water for the longest time and now, _she could breathe! _Eveything was so clear and in focus. Which made no sense what so freakin ever, because she had never before noticed the haze!

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," said the girl, her eyes never leaving Sara's.

Sara was still reeling from the electric shock she received when she had first laid eyes on the girl, but she was dimly aware of Catherine saying, "Where are you from? You have a strange accent."

The girl tore her eyes from Sara and turned to face Catherine. Having been released from the intensity of the young woman's eyes, Sara found that she could think again. She watched as Griffin shrugged her shoulders and answered Catherine saying, "Washington, New York, Miami, take your pick."

"But you weren''t born in any of these places," said Sara, "In fact, you weren't born any where in America, where you?"

Griffin once again turned her dark eyes on Sara and Sara was once again zapped with that spark of electricity that she was hit with before. Griffin eyed Sara for a few moments before she nodded her head and said, "South Africa, born and raised."

"Oh!" said Catherine in a surprised voice.

"Okay, that's enough with the meet and greet," said Grissom. "We have work to do. I still want to talk to Mrs. Barret. We need to get her prints so we can eliminate her as a suspect. We also need to find out why she lied to us."

"Did we miss something?" Warrick asked.

"Mrs. Barret claims she came home and found the body at around midnight," said Catherine, "But 911 only received the call at 12:30."

"That's why I want to talk to her," said Grissom.

"Would you mind if I tagged along, sir?" Grifgin asked. "I have some training in criminal profiling."

Grissom regarded her for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to his team.

"Okay, guys. We have evidence to process, a missing child to find and a killer to catch. Let's get to work."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Guys, here's the newest chapter. I hope you enjoy it. This story has been stuck in my head for the past two years, so I needed to get it down before it drove me insane. Please, I always appreciate the reviews. It helps to keep the creative juices flowing. I would like to hear your opinions on this fic. It's something very near and dear to my heart and I would love to find out if anyone else enjoys it as much as I do. Also please feel free to ask questions and I will try my hardest to answer them providing it doesn't give too much of the story away.**

**As always I own nothing except my original stories and Characters. Everything else belongs to CBS and the respective owners. **

**IronAngel 420**

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom and Griffin exited the house and waited as Brass finished up with his people. As they waited, they watched as the body of Michael Barrett was wheeled out and loaded into the Coroner's bus. The door was closed and sealed behind him. Brass walked up to them a tray of coffee in his hand and his tear drop sunglasses concealing his eyes. By this time it was about 6:00 a.m. and the winter sun was already starting to rise, giving light, but not much heat. Brass handed a cup to Grissom and Griffin, and kept the remaining cup for himself. As Brass handed the cup to Griffin he frowned and asked, "Who are you?"

Grissom made a quick introduction, "Griffin Bauer, Captain of Homicide, James Brass."

"Pleasure," said Griffin with a slight nod of her head.

Brass studied the girl from behind his glasses and said, "Likewise."

Turning to Grissom he took a tentative sip of his coffee and said, "So I take it you want to talk to the wife?"

Grissom took a sip of his own coffee and nodded his head, "It's not that I doubt your abilities to take and recount notes, I would simply like to hear her account personally."

Brass took another sip of his coffee and looked over at Griffin who had also donned her black Ray Banns. Brass then asked Grissom, "She coming too?"

Grissom looked back at Griffin. The young woman showed no sign of emotion at all, her face was completely blank. Turning back to Brass he said, "Yes, she is."

Brass shrugged and said, "She's staying about a block away, with her mother-in-law."

"Okay, let's roll," said Grissom. He and Griffin got into the Department issued Denali and Brass climbed into his Taurus.

CSICSICSICSI

Five minutes later they pulled up in front of a white picket fence house. Griffin and Grissom got out of the car and observed the house as Brass parked his car, got out and joined them.

"You ready?" he asked.

Grissom and Griffin nodded. The trio started out for the house; Griffin noted a curtain flutter and the door opened as they reached the porch. In the doorway stood a tall woman with grey hair that hung loose around her face. Pearls hung from her long slender neck and she wore a dark blue, cotton, long sleeved shirt and white, three-quarter pants.

"You are with the police?" she asked.

Brass held up his badge and said, "Yes, ma'am we are. We are here to talk to your daughter in law."

"Vanessa is very upset...can't this wait until later?" asked the old lady.

"No, ma'am, I'm afraid every moment we wait is a moment that Kimmy stays missing," said Brass gently.

Mrs. Barrett's lower lip quivered and she stepped to the side and opened the door wider. The detective and the two criminalists entered the house. Grissom saw they had entered into the foyer and to his right was a small kitchen and to his left was the sitting room. In the living room the back wall was completely lined with windows, the frames painted white. The room was all white and blue with a large fireplace and high backed cushioned chairs. In front of Grissom was a stair case that undoubtedly led to the bedrooms.

"She's in here, Detective," said the old lady and entered the sitting room, "Please forgive her if she seems a bit out of it. I gave her something to take the edge off."

The trio walked over and saw that Vanessa Barrett was lying on the couch, her shoes kicked off and strands of her hair was pulling out of its neat bun. Vanessa was an attractive woman, with a small, shapely nose, full lip and sharp green eyes. She sat up as her mother in law ushered the group in and gestured for them to take seats. Grissom and Brass each took a seat on one of the four cushioned chars, but Griffin remained standing.

"Mrs. Barrett, we know it's been a trying day for you, but Dr. Grissom is from the Las Vegas Crime Lab and he has a few more questions, if that's alright with you?"

Vanessa Barrett sat up straighter and crossed her ankles, folded her hands in her lap and nodded her head for Grissom to start.

"Mrs. Barrett what time, exactly, did you come home last night?" asked Grissom.

Vanessa took a moment, her eyes on the ground and a small frown crinkling her eyebrows together. After a moment she looked up and said, "At around about midnight. I remember because the radio was on and the midnight news had just aired when I pulled into the driveway. I'd, um..." Vanessa reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'd been working late."

Grissom nodded his head then said, "Can you give me a complete account of the moments when you pulled into your driveway up until the moment you called 911."

Vanessa took a deep breath then said, "I got home, like I said, at midnight. I didn't bother to pull the car into the garage as I was going to leave very early for work the next day. I got out of the car and walked up to the front door. I got my keys out of my purse and unlocked the front door. That's when I noticed the door was unlocked. It's not like –" Vanessa's lip quivered, " – it's not like Michael to leave the door unlocked, especially so late at night. I went in and threw my purse and my keys onto the side table next to the door.

"That's when I saw the blood on the wall. I turned towards Kimmy's room, and that's when...that's when I saw...Michael. He was just lying there...I knew from all that blood that there was no way my husband could still be alive. My first thought was for my daughter, I ran through the living room and around to Kimmy's door. The room was empty and I even went through her closet hoping she was just hiding. When I was absolutely sure she wasn't in the house, I called 911."

"Good. That was very good, Mrs. Barrett," said Grissom. After a pause Grissom continued with his questioning. "Can you tell me why, when you got home at 12:00 p.m. you only called 911 at 12:40 p.m.?"

Vanessa looked shocked and said, "When I pulled up into the driveway, my uh, my assistant called and I was stuck on the phone with her for a while."

"Phone records will confirm that," said Brass.

Vanessa's eyes flashed to the detective and she said, a sharp edge to her voice, "Of course they will, Detective."

"Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt you or your family?" asked Grissom.

Vanessa looked up in surprise, almost shock and said, "No, of course not! Michael was the sweetest, kindest man you ever met. Everyone loved him. And Kimmy? Kimmy was such an angel."

"Anyone at work, perhaps?" asked Grissom.

Vanessa looked down and placed her thumb on her cheek and rested her fingers against her forehead as if warding off a headache, "No, I can't think of anyone."

"Maybe an old case you worked or a case you are working on now?"

"No, no, no, no! Look...Mr. Grissom? Is it? This is a waste of time! You people should be out there looking for my daughter not asking me questions you have already asked!"

Brass stood and said, "Mrs. Barrett we will and are doing everything in our power to find your daughter and the person responsible for killing your husband. Mr. Grissom is nothing if not thorough and I personally vouch that not he or his team will rest until Kimmy is found."

Vanessa let her head drop into her face and she began to weep. Her mother in law comforted her and Brass bent forward and placed a handkerchief in her hand. Griffin just stood next to Grissom, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes never moving an inch from Vanessa.

Finally Vanessa took a deep breath and said, "Thank you, Detective, and you Mr. Grissom. I know you will do everything you can to find my daughter."

Getting up Grissom looked down at the woman and said, "Yes, ma'am, we will."

CSICSICSICSI

Grissom and Griffin walked in silence back to the car. Brass had stayed behind to wait for the rest of the team that would show up to bug Vanessa's phones in case the Kidnapper called with a ransom demand. Grissom was about to start the car when Griffin, who had been completely silent from the moment they entered the house up until when they had gotten into the car, said, "She's hiding something."

Turning in his seat Grissom looked at the young woman and asked, "How do you figure?"

Griffin stared out the windshield for a moment, her dark eyes hidden behind her Ray Banns, before she reached into her bag and pulled out an ipad.

"This probably isn't admissible in court, but it usually helps when questioning people," she said as her ipad woke up. Griffin tapped a few keys and her ipad responded by saying it was uploading information. When it was completed, Griffin angled the ipad so that Grissom could see as well. What Grissom saw was the interview that had just occurred.

"You recorded the interview?" asked Grissom in disbelief.

Griffin looked him in the eyes and said, "In the field of reading facial expressions and body language, there is this thing called a micro-expression that lasts about of fifth of a second, which is faster than a blink of an eye. So sometimes you can miss things. That is why the department I was with issued these tiny, little cameras that you could pin to your shirt and the interviewee would not know they are being recorded. That is why it is not admissible in court, but it can help you to see things you normally have missed."

"And did you miss anything in _this_ interview?" asked Grissom still quietly seething, but seeing her point of view.

"Not that I know of, but I did pick up some interesting things. Check this out," said Griffin, fast forwarding to where Grissom asked Vanessa what time she had come home.

_Vanessa took a moment her eyes on the ground and a small frown crinkling her eyebrows together. After a moment she looked up and said, "At around about twelve p.m. I remember because the radio was on and the midnight news had just aired when I pulled into the driveway. I'd, um," Vanessa reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'd been working late."_

"Did you see it?" asked Griffin, pausing the footage.

"See what?" asked Grissom confused.

Griffin sighed and rewound, "Watch closely."

Griffin pressed play and the same clip played again. When it finished Grissom sighed and said, "I'm sorry, I still don't see it; whatever 'it' is."

"Look at her eyes when you ask her to recall what time she came home. When a person is recalling a story their eyes will drop to the right almost unconsciously, if they drop down and to the _left_ it is a classic indication that they are lying, because they are trying to fabricate, or recall a fabricated story."

Grissom frowned and said, "But her eyes dropped to the right, which means she was telling the truth."

"Exactly. Now, watch when she says she was working late," Griffin played the clip again.

_...I'd, um," Vanessa reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'd been working late."_

"Not only does she look down to her left, but she also touched her face," said Griffin.

"She was brushing a strand of hair from her face," countered Grissom.

"No, she wasn't. It's the universal expression for shame. Whatever she was thinking of, she was ashamed of it. The same thing happened when you asked her if she knew of anyone who wanted to hurt her or her family. Like it or not Grissom, she's hiding something," concluded Griffin.

Grissom was quiet for a moment, absorbing the information Griffin had given him. If Vanessa was hiding something, it could impede their investigation. As assistant DA she knew that by hiding something from them, she could be charged with obstruction of justice. At just that moment Griffin's phone beeped and she pulled it out. She checked the text that had come through and frowned.

"Something wrong?" Grissom asked.

"Remember that mark we found on Michael's neck?" said Griffin still frowning at her phone.

"Yes, it looked like a backward 'r'," recalled Grissom.

"Right; I was running it through a few databases, you know FBI, CIA, and-"

"Wait, you released that information to another department?" snapped Grissom.

"Are you always this irritated?" Griffin asked in an equally irritated voice. "Or am I just catching you on a bad day?"

Grissom's eyebrows shot sky high as he regarded the young woman before him.

"I am a CSI 2, remember? Of course I wouldn't release the information to anyone!" growled Griffin.

"So how did you manage to run it through these databases?" Grissom asked, still sceptical of Griffin.

At this the young CSI gave a sly smile and said, "I have my ways; and I'm _very_ good at what I do."

Grissom gave a half smile before he said, "Okay, so what were you going to share before I so rudely interrupted?"

"I got a hit."

"You did?!"

"Yes," said Griffin, "From the FBI. Here is where it gets sticky though. The case was classified. I couldn't get in. And if I can't get in, then no one can."

"I believe you," said Grissom. "I wonder what the FBI is hiding."

"I think we are about to find out," said Griffin in a dark tone. Grissom glanced at her and he saw she was staring out the windscreen. Grissom turned his head and saw three black SUVs pulling up in the drive way.

"Suits," spat Grissom as he got out the car. Griffin followed on his six as Grissom walked up to a slimy looking man with thin blonde hair.

"Special Agent Culpepper," said Grissom through his clenched teeth.

"Gil, my friend, it's good to see you," said Culpepper, the sarcasm practically dripping from his honey soaked words. "I hope you are well, how's the team? How's _Sara_?"

Grissom felt Griffin stiffen beside him as Culpepper said Sara's name with such disdain.

"She's fine. No thanks to you," said Grissom, trying his damndest to give Culpepper the satisfaction of seeing that the FBI agent had gotten to the CSI.

"I see you have a new addition to your crack team," said Culpepper as he turned his leer on Griffin. He held out his hand as he greeted her, "Special Agent Rick Culpepper."

Griffin just continued to stare at him from behind her dark Ray Banns, not even bothering to acknowledge him.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine," said Culpepper as he withdrew his hand and once again turned to Grissom.

"What are you doing here, Culpepper?" Grissom asked.

"Well," said Culpepper as he lit a cigarette and took a drag, "Someone hacked into our database and tried to access a classified file a few hours ago. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

Grissom remained silent.

"Anyway," continued Culpepper, "We heard about your case and it coincides with ours. So we will be taking over the Barrett case."

"Like hell you are," snarled Grissom as he lunged a step forward, but Griffin grabbed onto his arm and held him back.

"It's already done," said Culpepper as he stubbed out his cigarette, "But it was nice to see you again, Champ."

With that Culpepper winked at Griffin and walked off into the house.

"We're not giving up are we?" Griffin asked.

"No chance in hell," growled Grissom as he and Griffin returned to the Denali.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone. Sorry for the late update. Life has been getting in the way. I wanted to say a big thank-you to Leona for your review. I hope this chapter will clear up your concerns about Grissom. I appreciate the pointers; it always helps to know how to improve my story. **

**This chapter is one of my favourites, I know it's not all that long, but hopefully I will be able to update again soon.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 420**

**CSICSICSICSI**

Nick Stokes scanned the newspaper as he sipped his coffee. The waitress finally brought his breakfast and he dug in hungrily. That was the problem with catching cases at the end of shift; it meant it was hours before you could get the chance to grab some food. Even now, though, he knew he had to hurry to get back. Nick wolfed down the last bit of his pancakes and took a few minutes to finish his coffee. He was back to scanning the paper when the door to the diner opened and he looked up. Nick immediately froze, because there in the doorway stood the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The morning sun was pouring through the glass door behind her, making her seem as if she were glowing. She flipped her Ray Banns back and up onto her head pushing her thick fringe back with it. Nick was pretty sure he had just seen an Angel, but he was pretty sure Angels didn't walk around dressed completely in black. She walked up to the counter and placed her hands on it.

"Hi," she said to the waitress, "I'd like five coffees to go, please."

The waitress put the order into the machine and took the money from the woman. The woman then turned her head and her eye grazed over Nick and then jumped back to him. She looked at him and said, "You know, if you keep your mouth open like that, a bug just might fly into it."

Nick realized he'd been sitting there staring at her with his mouth open like some idiot.

"I'm sorry, I, uh," he gave a nervous laugh, "Sorry."

The woman looked down and smiled, "It's not a problem."

"You're not from around here, are you?" Nick asked.

"Neither are you," she countered, "Texas?"

"Good guess," Nick smiled.

She turned her back to the counter and leaned against it.

"I'm Nick Stokes," said Nick. Just then the waitress returned with the coffee and the woman took them from her.

"Thanks," she said and dropped a ten in the tip jar. "It was nice to meet you, Nick," with that she turned and walked out the door. Nick jumped up and threw some money onto the table and rushed out after the woman.

"Hey, wait! I didn't catch your name!" he called.

She turned but continued to walk backwards, "That's because I didn't give it!" And with that she turned and got into her car. She drove off and left Nick standing there in the parking lot staring after her.

Warrick Brown sat in the CSI break room nursing the cup of coffee the New Girl had bought for the team. Even if she was a little young, she definitely got a positive mark in Warrick's book for this. He was just glad he didn't have to drink the black sludge that was classified as coffee in the CSI break room. He leaned back in his chair and rested his head against the back wall, closing his eyes for a few moments. He was heading for the far side of a double shift and so far the caffeine spike wasn't doing it for him.

Just then Nick walked in. A big, goofy grin plastered on his face.

"You look way to chipper for this time of day," said Warrick wearily.

Nick trotted over to the fridge and got himself an orange juice then flopped down onto one of the couches.

"Maybe," he said in his strong Texan accent, "It's because I met someone."

Warrick smirked then said, "Man, you just went out for breakfast! What is she, UNLV cheerleader? Or another underwear model?"

Nick took a swig of his juice, then shrugged and said, "Not sure. Though she's beautiful enough to be an angel."

"Not sure? Okay, so what is her name?" asked Warrick.

Nick took another long sip of his OJ.

"You did get her name, right?" asked Warrick.

Nick shrugged.

"Her phone number?"

Another shrug.

Warrick burst out laughing and Nick protested, "Hey, Man, she was real coy. Somehow I was the only one who offered up any information."

Warrick was still laughing and Nick also started to chuckle. Warrick shook his head and took another sip of his coffee, when Catherine and the New Girl walked up behind Nick. They paused behind the couch that Nick was lounging on.

"What are you two buffoons laughing about?" asked Catherine.

Nick looked up and threw Catherine one of his easy grins. From his angle he could not see the New Girl. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know," said Nick.

Catherine swatted him over his head affectionately and said, "If I _wanted_ to know anything about your personal life, Nicky; I just needed to wait five seconds after walking into a room."

Nick ducked his head shyly and chuckled. Coming around Catherine continued, "Seeing as how you can't keep anything about your private life _private_."

Warrick laughed again and he saw Griffin lean against the wall and cross her arms, an amused expression on her face as she watched the scene unfold before her.

"So let me guess," said Catherine sitting down and crossing her legs and her folded arms over her chest, "Cheerleader? Or underwear model?"

"He doesn't know," smirked Warrick.

Catherine turned to Nick, "You don't know?"

"Didn't even get her name. She ran out before he could get her name _or_ number," chuckled Warrick.

"Oh, wow, Nick," Catherine began to laugh, "You really have a way with the ladies. Where do you meet these women?"

"At Frank's Diner. He sits and stares at them with his mouth open," said Griffin speaking for the first time from her position behind Nick. Nick froze. Griffin walked around and leaned against the table, her arms still crossed. Nick turned and stared at Griffin with wide eyes.

Catherine and Warrick looked back and forth between Nick and Griffin until Catherine burst out laughing and said, "Oh my god! You tried to pick up _Griffin_?"

Griffin continued to look at Nick, and he suddenly looked very sheepish.

"So, Texas, you also work at CSI?" asked Griffin as Catherine and Warrick continued to laugh.

Just then Grissom and Sara walked in.

"What's so funny?" asked Sara.

Catherine and Warrick were laughing so hard they could not speak, so Nick grumbled, "Just another joke at my expense."

"Okay, happy hour is _over_ people," said Grissom throwing a file onto the table. It landed with a smack. Everyone who knew this reserved man knew that this was the equivalent of throwing the furniture around the room. The room became abruptly serious.

"What happened?" asked Catherine. Warrick and Nick sat up straighter; Griffin remained completely still, her expression unreadable, her body language relaxed. Grissom didn't answer, his top lip jerked up in obvious disgust.

Sara was the one who answered, "The FBI has taken over the Kimmy Barett case."

"What?!" said Warrick outraged.

"Special Agent Rick Culpepper," was all Grissom said. And suddenly they all knew. They all knew the egotistical jerk who worked with the FBI and who seemed to have a personal vendetta against Grissom and his team.

"So that's it?" asked Warrick in disbelief.

"No, we continue working the Michael Barett _and_ Kimmy Barett case. Nick, did you run those blood drops through DNA?"

Nick nodded and said, "Blood is not a match to the victim _or_ to the little girl, suggests that it's the killer's. No hits as yet. I also matched those tyre prints I found on the street in front of the house. The tyres are common to a number of vehicles, so when we have a suspect we can match the tyres to a car on that list."

"Can I have that list?" asked Grissom.

"Sure," Nick said and handed the list over to Grissom.

Grissom looked over the list, then nodded and turned to Catherine, "Shoe print?"

"Yeah, I ran it through the Solemate Database. It's a man size eleven, Dock Marten. Unfortunately, it's a pretty common shoe."

"Still it's a start," said Grissom, "Warrick?"

"Girl's room is clean, other than a few blood drops. Bloods from the dad, it probably dripped from the knife. There were no prints (finger or shoe) either - nada," said Warrick dejectedly.

"Sara?" said Grissom turning to the woman next to him.

"Doc Robbins says cause of death is exsanguination due to multiple stab wounds," said Sara, "the Vic suffered a broken nose and six broken ribs prior to his death. Whoever did this, beat the crap out of Mr. Barett before they killed him."

Griffin spoke from her position a little to the back and away from the group, "Considering this is a child abduction I thought it would be prudent to see how many sex offenders there are in our search radius. There are twelve registered sex offenders. Seven of them are paedophiles, and four of those seven are currently on parole."

"Good, round up a detective and get them to bring in those on your list," said Grissom.

Griffin nodded and said, "Already done, though it will take some time to get them all in."

Just then Grissom's phone rang.

"Grissom ...when was this? Okay, Jim, I want to be there when you interrogate him...I'm on my way right now. Yeah, thanks...bye."

"What's up, Boss?" asked Warrick.

"That was Jim. A twelve year old kid just came forward claiming he saw the killer fleeing the scene," said Grissom, "I'm heading over there now. Nick, Warrick, I want you two to dig into the Barett's background, both the husband and the wife. I want background checks on babysitters, housekeepers, everyone. Check into Vanessa's old cases and new ones; see if there is anything there. Keep me in the loop."

Warrick nodded and Nick said, "You got it, Boss," and the two of them got up and left the room.

"Catherine, I want you to check up on the fibre we found under the Vic's fingernails, see if Trace has found anything. I also want you to take a mould of his wounds."

"Sure thing," said Catherine, and she, too, left.

"Sara, I want you to go over the Vic's clothes, see if we missed anything."

Sara nodded then left.

"So, Griffin, that leaves you with me," said Grissom turning to the young woman leaning against the table.

Griffin straightened and said, "Let's go."

As the young girl walked out Grissom pursed his lips thoughtfully. He wouldn't normally allow someone who wasn't an official member of his team, but there was something about this girl. Something he couldn't put his finger on. All he knew was he wanted to see what this girl could do...


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, Guys!**

**Well, here's the next chapter. You can thank the Reviews that came from Leona, who inspired me to update. So please, review. It gets the creative juices flowing and all that. **

**I don't own CSI or anything created by CBS, I own only my original stories and Characters.**

**Iron Angel 420.**

**CSICSICSICSI**

In the Police Department, Grissom and Griffin watched from the observation booth as a skinny, dark haired kid was ushered into the interrogation room along with his mother. Brass told them he would be right with them and then exited the interrogation room and entered the observation booth.

"Caleb Stewart. Twelve years old, claims he saw a dark BMW speeding away from the Barett residence at around about 09:30 p.m." said Brass to Grissom and Griffin.

"Why is he only coming forward now?" asked Grissom.

"Kid didn't think much of it at the time, and then he was scared to come forward. He finally told his mom and she brought him down," Brass shrugged. "You gonna sit in with me?"

Grissom shook his head and said, "No, I want Griffin to sit in."

Brass frowned and looked at the young woman dressed in black, then back at Grissom and said, clearly not liking the idea, "Grissom , she's _barely_ older than that kid in there. She shouldn't even be here."

Griffin showed no emotion to the statement. She seemed to be used to such comments, she just stood next to Grissom with her arms folded over her chest. Grissom looked at the young woman next to him and then he turned back to Brass and said in a firm voice, "Griffin will sit in with you."

Brass sighed and just shook his head. Grissom turned back to Griffin and looked her in the eyes. Griffin looked back, but to Grissom it seemed as if she wasn't looking _into_ his eyes more _at_ him, as if she were reading something. After a moment her eyes refocused and she slipped off her black coat and threw it over a chair. On her right hip was a holstered gun; a Glock nineteen.

Griffin and Brass left the observation booth and entered the interrogation room.

"Thank you, again, for coming, Mrs. Stewart," said Brass taking a seat in front of the kid and his mother, "We will try and get this over as fast as possible."

Griffin took a place up against the wall where she had an unobstructed view of the boy. She crossed her arms and propped one foot up behind her and against the wall. Mrs. Stewart nodded her head and placed her arm around her son.

"Hi, there, Caleb, I'm Captain James Brass," said Brass addressing the boy, "Can you tell me what you saw last night?"

Caleb looked at his mother and she nodded at him. Turning back to Brass he swallowed and said, "I was at my window looking at the stars through my telescope. I wasn't supposed to be up; my bed time is at 08:30, but I couldn't sleep.

"It was around 09:30 when I saw this car pull up in front of the Barett's house and this guy got out and knocked on the door. I lost interest and went back to watching the stars. About fifteen minutes later, I heard the door slam again and I looked down. The next thing I saw was the car screeching off down the street."

"That's very good, Caleb. Tell me, can you remember what type of car it was?" asked Brass.

"Yes, sir, it was a dark BMW X5, 2009 model," said Caleb.

"Are you positive, Caleb?" asked Brass sceptically.

"Yes, sir; not only do I like stars, I'm also into cars," said Caleb.  
>"That's my son; a boy of many talents," said Mrs. Stewart affectionately.<p>

"Well thank you, Caleb," said Brass standing up, "You have been a very big help."

With that he and Griffin accompanied mother and son out of the room.

Back in the observation room Grissom, Brass and Griffin stood in a loose triangle.

"So," said Brass to Grissom, "What do you think?"

Grissom turned to Griffin and raised an eyebrow. Griffin looked at him and said, "The kid's telling the truth."

Grissom nodded and turned back to Brass, "Nick identified the tyre tracks as common to several cars; and," Grissom pulled out the folded sheet of paper from his pants pocket, unfolded it and scanned through it, "A BMW X5, 2009 model... is on that list."

"Okay, so we have a reliable witness?" asked Brass.

"Maybe. People lie, so let's focus on what doesn't...the evidence," said Grissom. "Griffin, I want you to follow up on those sex offenders."  
>"Okay, I'm coordinating with Detective Nathan Forbes. I'll give him a call and get back to you," Griffin left the room her phone already at her ear.<p>

"Hey, Grissom?"

Grissom looked back at Brass.

"She's just a kid. Why did you let her in the interrogation?"

"Because there is more to this girl than meets the eye. Despite her age she's not a kid. This girl has been through something that has aged her, not physically, but mentally. She is no more a kid than you and I are."

Grissom's phone vibrated and he fished it out of his pocket. He checked the caller identification: Sara. Grissom's heart did a tiny flip, the way it always did when he was about to talk to Sara. He flicked the phone open and answered, "Yeah, Sara, what's up?"

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Detective Forbes? Griffin Bauer from the Crime Lab," said Griffin into her phone. She had found a quiet corner in the Police Department to make her call.

"_Ah, yes, Ms. Bauer,"_ said a deep voice, _"You calling about your sex offenders?"_

"Yes, sir, I am. Have you made any progress?"

" _I have. I gathered some case files on them and I was just going through them when you called," _said Forbes.

"Great, could you have copies sent over to CSI?" asked Griffin.

"_Sure when did you need them by?"_

"Yesterday."

Forbes laughed and said, _"I'll bring them over personally."_

"I'd appreciate it," said Griffin and ended the call.

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Ms. Bauer?"

Griffin looked up from the photos of the crime scene she was looking at and towards the door of the layout room where the voice had originated. "Detective Forbes?"

"Nathan, please," said the man entering the layout room. He was a tall, handsome man in his early thirties with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Griffin. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," said Griffin shaking the detective's hand.

"Likewise," said the detective. He then threw a stack of files onto the table and said, "Here are the files you wanted."

Griffin picked up the top file and flipped it open.

"Seven paedophiles, living in a three mile radius of your missing girl's house," said Nathan, "Kevin Hamilton, Jerry Stables, Logan Field, Irvin Bleak, Jacob Harris, Michael Dawson, and Frank Peters.

"The ones that popped out were Frank Peters, Logan Field and Michael Dawson."

The file Griffin was holding was Logan Field's. She read it out aloud, "Logan Field, age thirty-five. He was arrested for the attempted rape of a twelve year old boy. Pleaded guilty and cut a deal. Served five years in prison; got out a year ago, he's still on parole...Well, we can exonerate him."

"How so?" asked Forbes.

Griffin pointed to the file and said, "He prefers adolescent boys, not young girls."

"Oh," said Forbes.

Griffin picked up the next file and read from that one, "Frank Peters; fifty-four years old. He raped his four year old granddaughter. He served fifteen years in a maximum security prison. He's an environmental offender...situational. So we can rule him out."

"Environmental offender?" asked Forbes.

"He only rapes members of his own family," stated Griffin still looking down at the file. Griffin saw from the corner of her eye the disgusted look on the detective's face. She picked up the last file.

"Michael Dawson, age thirty-nine. Raped and murdered a seven year old girl. He was sentenced to twenty-five years, but he only served fifteen before he got out on parole...Damn, I hope this isn't our guy," said Griffin.

"Why not?" asked the detective.

"He's a mysoped, an aggressive paedophile. Some of his pleasures are derived from physical violence. He likes to molest, then beat, and sometimes kill his victims," said Griffin.

"Then let's hope he isn't our guy, and if he is let's catch the sick bastard before he hurts that little girl," said Forbes putting his hands in his pockets.

"Let's bring Dawson in, I want to get a read on this guy," said Griffin snapping the file closed and throwing it onto the table.

"Okay, I'll round him up and bring him in."

**Hoped you enjoyed that. Please Review, because in the next chapter Griffin and Sara will have another encounter, and maybe, just maybe, there will be some light shed on their relationship. No promises though ;).**

**IronAngel 420.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey Everyone,**

**So here is my new chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I'm fighting a little with writer's block so I would really appreciate reviews. **

**Thanks **

**IronAngel 420.**

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara Sidle was standing in the unoccupied drying room, going over the blood encrusted clothes of the late Michael Barett. She picked up the once light blue shirt and ran her trained eyes over it. Sara laid it down on the table with the fluorescent globes beneath the glass, she smoothed it out with a latex gloved hand, and then she moved onto the pants and did the same. Next she laid the shoes down next to the pants, then took a step back and surveyed her work.

Taking a deep breath she stepped back to the table and picked up one of the shoes. Sara turned it over so that she exposed the underside of the loafer. She didn't find anything of consequence. Sara replaced the shoe and then she examined the other the same way. Nothing. Sara moved on to the pants. She examined the pants looking through a magnifying glass, other than blood, the pants were clean. Sara put the magnifying glass down on the table then she gingerly went through the pockets. The left pocket was empty, but when she moved on to the right pocket, her fingers brushed up against something hard. Sara carefully grasped the hard object between her latexed fingers and slowly pulled it from the pocket. Sara narrowed her eyes as she peered at the object in her hands. A flash drive. A normal USB; but if it contained something important it could be the key that would unlock their mystery.

Sara finished going over the clothes thoroughly before she made her way down the fluorescent halls and entered into the Audio\Visual room. Archie, their resident video geek, was sitting behind his desk in front of the giant flat screen TV. The lights were off, as usual, to enhance visibility, and Archie sat with his head phones on. Sara came up behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder so that she didn't startle the young tech. Archie still, however, jumped and he spun around ripping his headphones off.

"Jeez, Sara! Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?" he asked peevishly.

Sara cocked her head to one side slightly and gave him a lopsided smile, "Sorry, Archie. Look I need your help. You heard 'bout the Barett case?"

Archie nodded.

"I just found this little sucker," Sara held up the USB, "in the Vic's pants' pocket. You think you can tell me what's on it?"

Archie looked at the USB eagerly, "For one of Grissom's team, anything."

Before he took it from her hand he asked cautiously, "Is it okay if I touch it free hand?"

Sara nodded and said, "I already dusted it for prints, so no need for gloves."

"Awesome!" said Archie taking the USB from her.

Sara grinned and patted him on the shoulder as he plugged the USB in. Archie dragged his mouse over to the icon where he would find the USB information. He double clicked and opened the file.

"Oh crap," he groaned, propped his elbow on the metal table, and flopped his chin down onto his fist.

"What?" asked Sara; narrowing her eyes.

"It's encrypted. It's gonna take _hours_ to decode," said Archie miserably.

"Well, Michael Barett was a computer programmer...a pretty good one from what I hear," said Sara rubbing the back of her neck.

Archie looked up at her sharply and said sarcastically, "Thanks, Sara. That _really_ inspires me."

"Okay, okay, relax," said Sara taking a breath herself. "Look, do what you can and call me if you get anything. I've got to update Grissom."

Archie sighed and looked back at the screen as Sara pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial number one. Grissom's number. Sara had been trying very hard to get over Grissom. She even had a semi-boyfriend, Hank, but the keyword appeared to be trying as she was not succeeding at all. Her heart still seemed to be held hostage by the handsome, emotionally unavailable entomologist.

"_Yeah, Sara, what's up?"_

"I found something interesting going over the Vic's clothes," Sara said.

"_Which is?"_ asked Grissom.

"A USB. I took it to Archie, but, unfortunately, it's heavily encrypted. So it could take some time. Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"_Yes, Griffin is busy following up on the sex offenders; I need you to keep an eye on her."_

"You want me to baby sit?"

"_Is that a problem?"_

"No, I _love_ babysitting," said Sara her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"_Good,"_ said Grissom, the sarcasm lost on him, or otherwise he was just ignoring it, _"Check back later."_

Sara sighed and snapped her phone shut. Wonderful! Now she had to go make sure some rookie didn't mess up a bunch of interviews with a bunch of psychopaths. _This ought to be fun_, she thought to herself as made her way over to the PD.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara stood with her hands on her hips scanning the PD, searching for Griffin.

_What kind of a name is _Griffin_ anyway?_ She asked herself.

If she was honest with herself, Sara was actually nervous to see the young girl again. She had no idea what had happened when she first met Griffin. That electric shock she had felt when she looked into Griffin's brown eyes had scared Sara shitless. Yet, Sara could still not shake the feeling of profound completeness she felt in the presence of the young CSI. Sara wasn't exactly sure how to explain it, but she was sure it wasn't something romantic or sexual.

Sara found the girl standing outside of one of the interview rooms along with Detective Forbes. Forbes was a good enough guy, for a cop anyway ~ though he tended to be somewhat of a player when it came to women. The two of them stood next to each other looking down at a file that rested in Griffin's hands. The detective looked up and patted his pocket before saying something to Griffin and leaving. Griffin looked up just then and spotted Sara. Griffin's brow furrowed slightly when she saw her. Sara sighed quietly and walked over to the young woman.

"Hey," said Griffin.

"Hi," said Sara.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Griffin glancing back down at the file.

"No, I finished my task and Grissom sent me to help you," said Sara.

Griffin looked up sharply and she studied Sara's face for a few long moments. A spark suddenly flared in Griffin's dark eyes, though her face remained completely impassive. She snapped the file shut, crossed her arms, and said, "You mean he sent you to make sure I don't mess up?"

Sara shrugged. _Potato, potahto,_ she thought. Griffin narrowed her eyes again and said, "Fine, I guess this is the only way he will learn to trust me."

"Grissom doesn't trust people easily," said Sara.

"I can see that."

"You wanna catch me up?" asked Sara.

"Yeah, sure," said Griffin and flipped the file open again. "We identified seven paedophiles in our search radius and of those seven we narrowed it down to three and after that we nailed it down to one suspect." Griffin handed the file to Sara then shoved her hands in her back pocket and said, "Meet Michael Dawson, age 39. Raped and murdered a seven year old girl."

Sara swallowed back her disgust and tried to keep perspective.

"We brought him in. I wanted to be in on the questioning. It is always easier to catch a liar when they're out of their comfort zone," said Griffin turning to the one way mirror through which you could see a man sitting in a metal chair by a metal table that sat in the middle of an empty room.

Sara nodded thoughtfully and said, "Good to know."

Just then Forbes came back and said, "Hey I got my notepad...oh hey, Sara. Are you going to watch from the observation booth?"

Sara closed the file and handed it back to him and said, "No, I'm going to sit in with you."

And with that she turned and entered the interrogation room, not waiting for the others to reply.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara entered the cold interrogation room and took up a spot against the wall as Forbes and Griffin entered behind her and Forbes closed the door behind them. Griffin took a seat in front of Dawson and laid her one arm on the table and the other in her lap. Forbes perched on the table facing Dawson and gave him a cold smile.

"Do you mind telling me why I'm here?" asked Dawson. He was an attractive man with blonde hair, and brown eyes. He had a clean shaven face and you could just see the tattoo he had on his wrist underneath his long sleeved shirt.

"You tell me," said Forbes crossing his arms.

"I'm sure I don't know," said Dawson shrugging and sitting back.

Griffin opened the case file in front of her, picked up a picture of the deceased Mr. Barett lying in a pool of his own blood and laid it out in front of him. Dawson's eyes dropped down to the picture in front of him then sat forward and placed his arms on either side of it.

"Do you know this person?" asked Forbes.

Dawson studied the picture for a few more moments and then shoved it back and said, "Nope."

Griffin pulled out another picture. This time of Kimmy Barett, "What about this one?" she asked.

This time Dawson picked up the photo and studied it longer than the other picture. He then looked up and said, "Got no idea who either of these people are. She's the one from the Amber alert, right? Good looking kid." Dawson looked up at them with a taunting look in his eyes. Sara swallowed back the rage building inside of her and Forbes snatched the photo away. Dawson looked up at the detective and gave a sick smile.

"Where do you work, Mr. Dawson?" asked Griffin, the only one in the room who seemed to be having no problem with her emotions.

Dawson looked back at Griffin. He leaned back and crossed his legs, placing his right foot on his left knee, and said, "I'm a construction worker."

Griffin nodded, looked down and said, "Nice boots."

Dawson glanced down and shrugged. Sara also zeroed in on the shoes and saw they were boots. Probably Dock Martens.

"So you say you don't know this man?" asked Forbes.

Dawson shrugged with his mouth and nodded his head.

"What about the little girl?"

Dawson smiled again and said, "No, sir. I'm a convicted paedophile. That would be a violation of my parole."

Forbes clenched his jaw at Dawson's sarcastic tone. Dawson leaned back again and interlocked his hands behind his head and grinned. As he did his long sleeved shirt pulled up his arms slightly and Griffin spotted something on his arm.

"How did you get that nasty cut, Mr. Dawson?" she asked innocently.

Dawson dropped his arms and shrugged saying, "Cut myself on a piece of piping at work."

"Ah huh," said Griffin, "Where were you last night at 21:30 p.m.?"

Dawson looked Griffin straight in the eye and said, "I was at home."

"Alone?" asked Forbes.

Turning to the detective Dawson said, "Yes."

Forbes folded his arms and said, "Not much of an alibi."

Dawson looked at him and said, "I didn't know I needed one, _sir_. Are you accusing me of something? Maybe I need a lawyer."

"Maybe you do. Because we're liking you, not just murdering him, but kidnapping his daughter as well."

Dawson sat up straighter and said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there! I didn't do _shit_, man! I didn't kill anybody, and I didn't kidnap that girl. And you can't prove anything, so either charge me or let me the hell go." Dawson got up, but Forbes placed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back in his seat.

"Sit _down_," growled Forbes.

"Mr. Dawson, I want to take a sample of your DNA," said Griffin.

Dawson turned to her and said through his teeth, "And why would I allow you to do that without a warrant?"

"Because if you cooperate and you are innocent like you say, we can exonerate you. But if you are guilty...I'll nail your ass to the wall."

Dawson glared at her for a moment then said, "Fine."

"I'd also like to take your shoes."

"My _shoes_?"

Griffin nodded and Dawson sighed and said, "Fine, fine, just let's get it over and done with."

Griffin opened her kit and pulled out a DNA swab as Dawson unlaced his boots. When he was done Griffin swabbed the inside of his mouth then placed his boots in an evidence bag.

"Thank-you, Mr Dawson," she said, then left the interrogation room. Sara and Forbes followed her out.

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Well, what do you think?" asked Forbes.

"He's telling the truth," said Griffin, her brow furrowing.

"And how do you know that?" asked Sara sceptically.

Griffin looked at her and her eyes hardened, "Because that is what I _do_."

"What _evidence_ do you have, exactly?" asked Sara folding her arms over her chest.

Griffin gave a long-suffering sigh, as if she were trying to explain something to an impatient two year old, and counted off the points, "A) If he was guilty his DNA would have shown up in CODIS when we ran the errant DNA through the database, and B)," Griffin held up the evidence bag that held Dawson's shoes, "his shoes are too small."

"Well, you know what they say about men with small feet," said Forbes placing his hands on his hips.

Griffin ignored him, but spoke directly to Sara, "Look, Michael Dawson may be a sick, psychopathic SOB, but he did _not_ kill Michael Barett, and he didn't kidnap Kimmy."

Sara glared at Griffin for a few more moments before she said, "Fine. I'll meet you back at CSI."

With that Sara turned and walked out the Police Department. It was dark as she walked outside, and the wind had a nasty bite to it as it tugged at Sara's scarf and coat. As she walked to her car she felt a chill roll down her neck and spine. Like someone had breathed down her neck. Sara spun around her heart pounding. Several of the lights were busted outside the PD and Sara was practically alone in the parking lot. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, but all she called see were dark shadows; shadows that seemed to grow darker...and draw closer. Sara's heart began to pound in her chest, an irrational fear gripping her as she hurried to her car; she quickly unlocked the door, jumped inside, and locked the doors. Her heart was still pounding as she started her Denali and pulled out of the PD. What she didn't notice was the shadows that latched themselves onto the bumper of her car...

**Please Review ****.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, all you wonderful people!**

**So, I've been struggling the past two days with a severe case of writer's block, but I finally managed to break through it! This chapter might be a bit rough around the edges, so excuse me if it is a little...weak. Also, I'm not sure about the process of gaining American Citizenship, but Leona had some questions regarding Griffin. Unfortunately, I can't reveal to much of Griffin's past, Leona, because that will come in later on in the series, but I hope this helps some. I was so happy to see that my story has been viewed over 950 times! Which is awesome, but I would love to hear from some of you viewers. Let me know what you think. Anyway, enjoy and review at the end please.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 420**

**CSICSICSICSI**

Some people thought of Grissom's office as profoundly creepy. With the low lighting, the bugs on boards and a baby pig in a formaldehyde jar, people got a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde vibe from him. But to Grissom it was the perfect place to think; and with the low lighting, a perfect place to ward of a migraine. Grissom was contemplating the case. Grissom still could not believe that he had to deal with Culpepper once again. Grissom's blood had boiled when the FBI had turned up and seized what precious little evidence they had.

_Culpepper_. Even the name made Grissom seethe. He would never forget the feeling of pure panic he felt when the FBI agent had used Sara, _his Sara_, as _bait_ for the Strip Strangler case. Before Grissom could mull over the past any longer, Catherine walked in. The attractive blonde sat down in front of him and crossed her legs.

"Can I help you, Catherine?" Grissom asked raising one eyebrow.

"So, who is she?"

"Who is who?" asked Grissom, confused.

"Griffin of course," said Catherine with a smirk. "The last time you brought someone in like this it was Sara. So what is your history with Griffin?"

Grissom shrugged, "Firstly, I didn't bring her in, the lab did. And there is no history. I received a phone call from the Lab Director last week saying that there would be a transfer from Miami Dade joining the lab."

"So you've never met her?" Catherine asked incredulously.

"I did speak to her on the phone briefly, other than that; I have never had contact with her."

"I wonder what her story is..." said Catherine in a thoughtful voice.

"Story?"

"Yeah, I mean, she's an eighteen year old, South African, a CSI level 2, and this doesn't strike you the least bit odd?" Catherine asked.

"I'm sure there is an explanation," shrugged Grissom. "When I spoke to her reference, a Detective Horatio Cane, he said she was the most promising CSI he had ever met. He said that she has more potential in her left index finger that his whole lab put together."

"But where is her family?" asked Catherine.

"I've got no clue. Why don't you asked Griffin yourself?" said Grissom.

"Ask me what?"

Grissom looked up and Catherine turned around in her seat to see Griffin standing in the doorway.

"Um, about your family," said Catherine cautiously.

Griffin just shrugged and said, "There's not much to tell, they still live in South Africa."

"How long have you been in America?" Catherine asked.

"Since I was fifteen. I got my citizenship at 16 and I've never been back to South Africa."

"There you have it, Catherine. Case closed," said Grissom. "What do you have for me, Griffin?"

"Just wanted to let you know the sex offenders were a bust (thank God). But...we have no more leads," said Griffin.

"And the FBI has seized all our evidence...so our case is running cold," sighed Grissom.

"That might not necessarily be true," said Griffin.

"How come?" asked Grissom.

"Remember I was looking into the FBI database for the MO?" Griffin asked Grissom.

"I remember. You said you hit a wall."

"Yeah, well, I've found that not even the strongest wall can stand against a wrecking ball," said Griffin with a sly smile.

"So, you found something?" said Catherine hopefully.

"I did," said Griffin. "And I suggest you get the rest of the team in here."

**CSICSICSICSI**

The team had assembled in Grissom's office. Catherine and Sara had claimed the two chairs in front of Grissom's desk; Warrick lounged on the sofa with Nick leaning against the wall next to him. Grissom sat behind his desk and Griffin stood next to him.

"The reason I asked you all here," Grissom said, "Is because Griffin has uncovered some information concerning our killer's MO."

"What kind of information?" Warrick asked.

"The helpful kind," said Griffin. "The backward 'r' we found carved into Michael Barett's neck is consistent with a killer known as The Reaper."

"The Reaper?" asked Sara.

"As in the Grim Reaper," explained Griffin, "The 'r' is actually a scythe."

"And he carves this into his victims?" said Nick.

Griffin nodded, "This guy is a contract killer. He has nearly fifty hits to his name...that the FBI knows about anyway."

"No wonder the FBI took over our case," said Catherine. "But who would take a hit out on a computer programmer who is a stay at home dad, and works from home?"

"No one," said Griffin, "Because this 'Reaper' didn't kill Michael Barett."

Sara frowned and shook her head, "Wait, I'm confused. I thought you said the MO is consistent with this 'Reaper'."

"The scythe symbol is," said Griffin, "But that is where the similarities end. Someone wanted us to think that it was the Reaper."

"How do you know it's not really The Reaper?" Sara questioned.

"There were a few things that tipped me off. Firstly, the Reaper uses a .22 calibre double tap to the back of the head. Old school, executioner style. This guy used a knife; and a hell of a lot of rage went into the stabbing. It was extremely personal."

"So, why go through all the trouble of carving the scythe into Michael's neck?" asked Grissom.

"A half ass attempt at covering it up?" suggested Nick.

"Or," said Catherine, "He was interrupted."

"Kimmy," said Sara, "The perp wasn't counting on her being there."

"So maybe kidnapping her wasn't part of the plan," said Warrick.

"Which means he's impulsive," said Griffin.

"Or unstable," put in Nick.

"Either way it makes it even more dangerous for Kimmy to be around him," said Griffin.

"But why take her in the first place?" Catherine mused.

"Like Griffin said," answered Grissom, "This is personal."

Grissom looked at Nick and Warrick and asked, "Background checks?"

Warrick was the one who answered, "As far as we could find the Barett's have no skeleton's in their closets. Vanessa has made a few enemies as an ADA, but none of them match our profile."

Just then Grissom's phone rang. He answered it whilst the rest of the team continued to talk.

"Michael Barett is clean," said Nick, "Though; Mr. and Mrs. Barett have been having some marital problems. They've been seeing a therapist for the last two months. I tried speaking to the doctor, but he hid behind the Doctor/patient confidentiality thing."

"This will have to wait," said Grissom as he put the phone down.

"Whassup, Boss?" asked Warrick.

"Brass just called. We've got a D.B. just off the Strip. The first officer on the scene called it in, said the D.B. matched Kimmy Barett's description. We won't know for sure until the mother positively I.D.'s the body, but so far it looks like it's her," said Grissom

**CSICSICSICSI**

The desert was a barren place all year round, but add to the fact that it was winter and cold as hell, even the stars that were more prominent this time of year couldn't make up for the dusty, dingy surroundings. Grissom stepped out of the Denali and looked at their new crime scene. The vegetation was scarce and scanty, all coarse, dead grass and sand. From their position, Grissom could see the main road about four miles away. He could hear the humming of cars as they drove by on their way to their respective destinations, oblivious to the tragedy that had occurred just off the Strip. A little off the road, half hidden by vegetation was the small body of a young girl.

Catherine came up beside him and the two of them made their way towards the body.

"I don't see any footprints, though there seem to be wipe marks. Killer tried to hide his tracks," she said aiming her camera and taking a series of photos. The flash of her camera lit up their surroundings like tiny flashes of daylight with each photo she took. Grissom ran the beam of his flashlight over the wipe marks up until the half hidden body. The DB's legs were bound with what seemed to be duct tape, and what Grissom could see of her upper body her hands seemed to be tied behind her back.

Another car arrived and Grissom looked up as the beam of its headlights trailed over them. The car stopped and Sara and Griffin got out of it, their field kits in their hands. The pair began to walk up to Grissom and Catherine when Griffin looked to her left and paused. She reached into the pocket of her black, leather coat and produced a mini flashlight. Griffin clicked it on then trailed the beam over whatever she seemed so interested in. Sara left her colleague behind and had walked up to Grissom.

"Hey, I'm gonna go get my kit," said Catherine slipping her camera over her neck as she headed off towards the car, being careful where she stepped.

"Hey," said Sara, now next to him.

Grissom turned to her and nodded his head in greeting.

"Kimmy?" she asked looking over at the body.

"Not sure; I haven't actually seen the body yet," he said. Grissom looked back at Griffin who was kneeling and peering hard at something. She looked up and pointed the beam of her torch towards the cars.

"How does she seem to you?" asked Grissom nodding his head towards Griffin.

Sara was quiet for a moment then said slowly, "She seems...to know what she's doing."

"You don't sound so sure."

Sara smirked at him and said, "One thing's for sure, she's young. To young maybe?"

Grissom looked back at Griffin and then back at Sara and said, "I remember I said the same thing about you when we first met at the Forensic Conference."

Sara threw him a sharp look.

"Shall we have a look at the body?" Grissom asked abruptly changing the subject.

Sara shrugged and said, "Sure."

Gesturing with his hand Grissom said, "Ladies first."

Sara smirked and shook her head at him, before she ducked under the crime tape. Grissom followed her and they carefully made their way towards the crime scene.

The young girl lay on her side her hands bound behind her back, and her face in the dirt. Grissom felt a surge of sadness at the loss of a child's life, and the fact that they could not save her ate at his conscience.

"Hey, you okay?" asked Sara looking up at her boss from her kneeling position next to the body, and shining her torch on his face.

Grissom smiled down at her; Sara had always been attuned to his emotions, always knowing when he was upset or angry. "I'm fine,"

"You're not gonna get sick on me are you?" she asked throwing him a knowing smile.

Grissom smiled a little wider. He had asked her the same thing the first time they had worked a case together, it had not been her first time, however, as she had already been a CSI for three years. Grissom shook his head and looked back down at the body; he crouched down to get a better look. The girl's mouth was covered with a silver piece of duct tape. The same brand, no doubt, as the tape around her wrists and ankles. Sara started taking a series of photos with her camera documenting the body position and the surrounding area.

"Redress?" she asked as she lowered her camera frowning.

"Possibly; the buttons on her shirt are out of order," said Grissom.

"You're thinking sexual assault?" Sara asked.

'I'm not thinking anything, let's collect the evidence then find out what it is telling us," corrected Grissom.

"I'm sure the Doc Robbins will administer a sexual assault examination," said Sara going back to taking photos.

"I have no doubt he will." Grissom looked up to see Griffin finally making her way over along with Catherine.

"You find something interesting?" he asked.

Griffin stopped behind the crime tape and looked at him for a moment before she said, "Yeah, actually, I did. I found tyre marks that _don't_ match any of the police vehicles. I used dental stone to cast the track, along with documenting with photos."

"It was a nice catch, Grissom. You and I both over looked it," admitted Catherine.

Grissom narrowed his eyes and then beckoned for Griffin to join him on the other side of the crime tape. Griffin hesitated for the briefest of seconds before she ducked under the yellow tape and stood next to the boss.

"Alright, Griffin. Tell me what you see," challenged Grissom.

Griffin hitched the legs of her jeans up slightly as she crouched down and peered at the body with her dark, mysterious eyes.

"She wasn't killed here; this is an obvious body dump."

"Why do you say that?" Grissom asked.

Griffin looked up at him and shrugged with her mouth, "The ground around the body is undisturbed, and there are wipe marks ranging from the body up to tyre tracks."

Grissom nodded his head in silent agreement.

Returning to her evaluation, Griffin continued saying, "She's been redressed, but there is no obvious sign of sexual assault or semen." She reached out with her gloved hand and gently brushed the golden hair from the girl's neck. "There's bruising around the neck, which suggests manual strangulation. The pattern is strange though, probably a foreign object."

Griffin looked down at the beautiful, little girl and sighed, "She was a brave little girl."

"How so?" asked Grissom.

Griffin reached over the body and gently cradled the girl's cold fingers and looked up at Grissom, "She fought back. There's skin and blood under her finger nails."

Griffin reached out and thumbed the eyelid open revealing a lifeless blue eye, "Petechial haemorrhaging, which will confirm my theory of strangulation. Coroner will have to confirm cause of death though."

Grissom looked at Catherine, and Catherine looked at Grissom. They were equally impressed. They had both been on the job for many years and not once had either of them seen such a young person posses such natural skills in the field.

"Good," said Grissom, "Do you see anything else?"

Griffin narrowed her eyes and Sara stopped what she was doing to watch the young woman work. "There are some bluish fibres on her clothes. Could be transfer from the trunk of a car, or a carpet in a house."

Grissom smiled and Catherine grinned. They definitely had a gem here. "Good, very good," said Grissom and Sara seemed to look harder at Griffin, as if re-evaluating the younger woman. Griffin barely smiled at the complement, but continued to peer at the body.

"There is a triangular birthmark on her neck," said Griffin pointing with her black gloved finger. Sara came a little closer and looked to where Griffin was pointing. She handed a marker to Griffin, who held it in place as Sara took some pictures.

"We should be able to make a positive I.D. with that," said Grissom. Dave Phillips arrived and Sara and Griffin stepped aside.

Dave pierced the DB's abdomen with his liver probe and took a reading. "TOD is about eight hours ago."

Brass walked up and said, "I just got a phone call."

"How wonderful for you," Grissom said.

Brass smirked and said, "So which of you geniuses forgot to inform the FBI that you possibly found the body of a kidnap victim of theirs?"


	8. Chapter 8

**I needed an escape from reality. So here's a new chapter. Enjoy and please review.**

**IronAngel 420.**

The team was spread out in different areas of the layout room. Their eyes were riveted on Grissom and Special Agent Rick Culpepper who stood with his toes nearly brushing Grissom's. The tension was so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife. Culpepper was busy growling at Grissom. Grissom seemed calm on the outside, but Griffin, the only one who had the ability to see more than the exterior, knew he was barely controlling his anger. Truth be told, she was also having a hard time staying calm.

"Why the hell was I not informed of the discovery of the body, Grissom?!"

Grissom looked straight into Culpepper's eyes, "Because we didn't have a positive I.D., Rick."

"I don't bloody well care! You could have had the goddamn decency to pick up the phone!"

"Like you had decency when you just blew in and took over my case, Culpepper?" asked Grissom, his face calm and serene but his voice had a steel edge to it.

Culpepper looked like he was about to burst an artery. His face turned a bright shade of purple before he growled, "Now, you listen here, you son of a bi –"

"Enough!"

Everyone's head swivelled around to the back of the room where Griffin had jumped off the counter she had been sitting on and her fists were clenched.

"Damn it! What is wrong with you two? You are acting like a bunch of kids," Griffin's eyes were exasperated as she came forward and rested her hands on the layout table.

"You, Miss, are _way_ out of line," said Culpepper through his teeth and even Grissom looked surprised. The rest of the team were shocked into silence and just watched the scene unfold before them.

"No, _you_ are out of line. A man is dead. His daughter was kidnapped and _strangled_ to death with her body dumped on the side of the road like a piece of garbage; and you two stand here fighting over jurisdiction like a bunch of five year olds fighting over a toy! Both of you; get over yourselves! Stop spending half your energy on fighting each other. Rather pool your resources, work together, and catch this bastard. Deliver justice for Michael and Kimmy Barett. That's your job."

Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Sara stared at Griffin with wide eyes and then looked nervously back at their boss. Griffin was still leaning with her hands on the table staring at Culpepper and Grissom with her piercing, dark eyes. Grissom was the first to move. Turning to Culpepper he said reluctantly, "She's right, Rick. The sooner we catch this guy, the sooner you can get out of my lab."

Grissom offered Culpepper his hand, "Truce?"

Culpepper looked down at Grissom's hand then back at Griffin before he sighed and said, "Truce," shaking Grissom's hand. Everyone relaxed.

"Okay," said Grissom turning to his team. Griffin had once again retreated to the back of the room and was leaning up against the back of the counter. "Now that we are all working together," Grissom looked at Culpepper before continuing, "What do we have?"

Catherine was the first to speak, "DNA still hasn't come back, so we have not, as yet, positively I. the body. Mrs. Barett is on her way in. As soon as she gets here I'll take her down to the morgue."

"The tread Griffin found," said Nick, "was a confirmed match to the one I found at the primary crime scene."

"Good," said Grissom, "but can this connect the two scenes?"

"I suppose so," said Nick shrugging, "but the Mercedes is a pretty common car, and it's not the only car with those tyres. We are certain that the getaway car is a Mercedes, the eye witness confirms that."

"We tapped Mrs. Barett's phone," said Culpepper, "but there was no ransom call."

"That's odd," said Catherine frowning.

"Not really," said Culpepper turning to her, "it simply means that the perp wasn't looking for money."

"Okay, so we're back to the four biggies," said Warrick crossing his long arms.

"Drugs, sex, love, or money," Griffin said.

"So we can rule out money," said Culpepper.

"And drugs," said Sara.

"Sex too," said Nick, "Far as Warrick and I could dig, we dug; and we found nothing to suggest that Mr. Barett was having an affair."

Griffin frowned and came to stand next to Nick, "Men aren't the only ones who have affairs, Nick."

Culpepper nodded his head in agreement.

Turning to Grissom, Griffin said, "Mrs. Barett was the first on the scene, so shouldn't that make her...our first suspect?"

Captain Brass chose that moment to enter the layout room. He took one look at the scene before him and said in a sarcastic tone, "What? No one invites me to the party?"

"Actually, Captain," said Griffin turning to Brass, "Your timing couldn't be better."

"Really?" said Brass sceptically.

"Yeah," answered Griffin, "Did you, perchance, follow up on Mrs. Barett's alibi?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?"

The side of Griffin's mouth tugged upward slightly and she asked, "Anything pertinent?"

Brass turned to Grissom, "Receptionist confirmed that when she left at about eight p.m., ADA Barett was still hard at work."

Sara frowned and said, "Well, that leaves four hours unaccounted for."

Griffin asked, "Did you get the video surveillance from the DA's office?"

Brass shook his head and said, "I haven't gotten around to it yet." He shrugged and said, slightly defensive, "It's been a kinda busy two days."

"S'okay, Captain. Would it be possible for you to acquire these tapes and get them to me as soon as possible?" asked Griffin politely.

Brass looked at Grissom from the corner of his eye and Grissom gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head; Brass sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, "Yeah, sure, I'll get right on it."

"Thank you," said Griffin bowing her head.

"Alright, it seems we have our work cut out for us; but first, let's completely work the evidence. I want Sara and Griffin on the clothes and duct tape. Nick, you take the fibres we found on the body. Warrick, see if you can't identify the markings on the neck. Catherine you handle the mother, and I'll be in the morgue."

Everyone started to disperse to the respective tasks when Grissom said, "Griffin?"

Griffin paused by the door and looked back.

"Do you mind staying a moment?" asked Grissom.

Griffin waited until everyone left the room until she came back into the room and stood in front of Grissom.

"What's up?" she asked.

Grissom crossed his arms and looked hard at her, "Do you mind giving me an explanation for what happened earlier?"

Griffin didn't look ashamed or regretful, she simply said, "I apologize, if I was out of line."

"Yes, you were; but you were right," said Grissom.

Griffin arched an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't suggest doing it again, but thank you. I lost perspective and you helped me to find it again," Grissom smiled.

"In that case, you're welcome," said Griffin.

"I'm sure Sara is waiting for you."

Griffin nodded and left the room. Grissom frowned; she was most definitely a peculiar woman.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Warrick Brown still hadn't I. the bruising on the second D.B.'s neck yet. He picked up the printed photo again and narrowed his eyes while he looked at it. Warrick still couldn't quite make out the markings. He slipped the photo into the scanner and hit the scan button. Turning back to the computer he watched as the picture showed up onto the screen. Clicking on a photo shop icon Warrick adjusted the colouring of the picture, enhancing the bruising to make them more prominent. Peering more closely, Warrick grinned as he saw the pattern more clearly.

_Dude_, he thought to himself, _you're good_.

Opening up his Google search engine, Warrick typed into the search box 'Bicycle chains' and immediately got a couple of hits. Warrick double clicked on one of the websites and opened up the file with the pictures. Selecting a picture of a chain with a diamond shaped pattern, Warrick halved the screen so that the picture of the bruises and the picture of the chain were placed side by side. Warrick then dragged the picture of the chain over to the picture with the bruise...and got a perfect match.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom entered the morgue dressed in a light blue lab coat over his street clothes and latex gloves on his hands. Doctor Robbins was bent over the body of the young girl from their latest crime scene.  
>"Hey, Doc," said Grissom walking up to the metal table with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, "Got anything for me?"<p>

Robbins was busy suturing the Y incision he had cut into the girl's chest. He looked up saying, "Yeah. Sorry, it's been a busy night. There was a fatal pile up in Henderson; I just finished the autopsy now."

"It's okay, I'm here now," said Grissom with a shrug.

"COD is strangulation. I found petechial haemorrhaging in the conjunctivae," said Robbins.

The conjunctiva is the mucous membrane that lined the inner surface of the eyelids. A good sneeze could sometimes cause some petechia though.

"As you can see there is extensive bruising around the neck and the hyoid bone is broken, which suggests manual strangulation," said the Doctor as he finished his sutures.

"Lividity?" asked Grissom.

"Lividity is consistent with her dying on her back and she stayed on her back for some time before she was placed on her side."

Grissom nodded his head and sighed, going rigid before he asked, "Sexual assault?"

"No vaginal tearing, her hymen was still intact and the SAE kit came back negative," said the ME.

Grissom let out a sigh of relief and nodded once more.

"I sent the nail scrapings to DNA, if you want to check up on that," offered Robbins.

Grissom nodded and looked one last time at the young girl lying on the slab. Her skin was now even paler than her fair blonde hair. He gave a sad sigh before looking up at Robbins and saying, "Thanks, Doc." Grissom turned and pushed the door open with his shoulder, exiting the morgue.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara found herself in the layout room going over a victim's clothes. Griffin stood next to her, her brow was furrowed as she analysed the duct tape that had been used to tie the victim up. Sara was going over the rest of the clothes, the shirt and the black skirt. The girl had been barefoot, which was strange; if someone had taken the time to redress her; why not bother to put her shoes back on?

"Well," said Griffin still going over a strip of tape, "When we locate our suspect roll of duct tape, we can run a laser ablation test to determine if this tape came from the same roll."

Sara had a moment of irritation, she felt like saying to her that she knew how to do her job, when it occurred to her that Griffin was just trying to make small talk. Sara had decided to...re-evaluate the younger woman, which was quite a step for Sara, who had some serious trust issues when it came to strangers.

"Yeah," said Sara, "You find any prints?"

Griffin straightened and said turning to Sara, "No, I'll super glue it, but there's something I want to try before I do."

Sara also straightened and raised an eyebrow before she asked, "Which is?"

Placing the magnifying glass that was in her hand down on the table and picked up a roll of duct tape with a latexed hand, Griffin asked, "Can you tie me up?"

Sara frowned.

Griffin smirked, "It'll be fun."

Sara couldn't contain her smile as she rolled her eyes and took the tape from the younger girl's hand. Griffin placed her hands together and Sara began to wrap the tape around Griffin's wrist. When she was finished, Sara tore the piece of tape with her teeth and took a step back. Griffin was smiling at Sara. Sara frowned and said, "What?"

"See what you did there?" asked Griffin.

Sara just raised her eyebrow and thought for a second. Suddenly a light bulb went off in her head and she said, "I tore the tape with my teeth."

"Exactly," said Griffin with a smile, "If the killer did the same thing, then his DNA would be on the ends of this tape."

Sara shook her head in amazement and chuckled, "I would never have thought of that."

Griffin was still looking down at the tape as she smiled. Griffin straightened and slipped the tape back into the evidence bags.

"Listen," Griffin said, "I'm gonna get this to DNA then I'm going to see if I can't get some prints of these pieces of tape."

Sara nodded and said, "Okay, well, I'll be busy here for a while, so keep me posted, okay?"

Griffin nodded and walking backwards said, "You got it."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin walked down the hall and took a right turn entering the DNA lab. Among the sea of test tube, and metal tables, and the fancy machines was a young man in his early twenties who sat in front of a computer. He had an impish smile and crazy, spiky hair. Griffin liked him already. When she entered into the lab, the lab tech turned around and said, "Oh, hey. I don't think I've seen you around here. I'm Greg Sanders."

Griffin smiled and said, "Griffin Bauer. I'm new here."

"Well, it's nice to meet you. If there's anything you need, I'm your guy," grinned Greg.

"Actually, there is something," Griffin handed the evidence bag with the duct tape in it to him, "Could you run this and see if there is any DNA on the edges."

"That's a bit of a stretch isn't it?" asked Greg frowning.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, standard procedure is to run the RFLP procedure, right?" asked Griffin.

When RFLP (a restriction fragment length polymorphisms) is used, DNA is pulled out of a cluster of cells like a few drops of blood. The long strands of DNA are then cut into pieces at specific intervals, giving CSI's many small DNA strands. Next, the DNA strands are run through an electrophoresis gel. The gel is similar to a rectangular piece of gelatine with small holes that line the one edge of the gel. All the DNA strands are then placed in the holes and an electric current is run through the gel. The sections of DNA will move through the gel along with the current. The smaller sections move quicker through the gel than the longer pieces. This separates the DNA into two or more different 'bands' that relate to different lengths of DNA pieces. Analysts then compare the pattern of the 'bands' in another sample. If the sample came from the same person, the DNA produces the same pattern of bands.

"Yes," replied Greg, "That process is the most accurate."

"Yeah," said Griffin, "But it can take anywhere from three weeks to three months, right?"

"Correct," confirmed Greg.

"Here's the thing. This case is high profile and we need these results pretty much sooner than three weeks."

"What do you suggest?"

"Can you use the PCR procedure?" suggested Griffin.

PCR (polymerase chain reaction) is a process that is very similar to RFLP, except that it's used when there is a very small sample, like a drop or two of blood. PCR breaks the DNA into pieces and then makes millions of copies of just _part_ of the DNA strand. Certain markers in the smaller strands of DNA are then compared to see if the two samples match. Even though PCR isn't quite as accurate and precise as RFLP, it is much faster, and you usually get the results within less than a week. This method is also used on older and smaller samples like hair, fingernails and even saliva.

"I like a girl who can talk tech," flirted Greg, "So... I will do this especially for you, pretty lady. If I find something I'll let you know, but you're going to owe me a favour."

"Thanks," said Griffin, "but something tells me you were going to run a PCR in anyways."

Greg laughed and Griffin grinned as she exited the lab.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Nick woke with a start as his phone rang on the table which he had fallen asleep on. Wiping his hand over his face he snatched up the ringing phone and snapped it open saying, "Talk to me."

"_Nick, its Greg."_

"Yeah, what's up?" asked Nick still trying to wake up.

"_Have you been sleeping on the job again?"_

"What is _up_, Greg?" asked Nick irritably.

"_I got the results on your blue fibres."_

"Great," said Nick pushing away from his desk, "I'll be right there."

Nick snapped his phone shut and stretched before opening the door of his office and stepping out into the fluorescent lighted hall. Nick walked down the hall towards Greg's lab, hoping that they would be able to catch a break in the case soon. Not only so that he could go home and get some sleep, and maybe even a descent meal, but so that he could also maybe ask Griffin out. He smiled as he thought of the mysterious young lady with dark eyes. Though he had seriously put his foot in his mouth at the diner, he fully intended to redeem himself. Nick entered the lab to find Greg looking at something on the computer.

"Yo!" said Nick banging his fist on the metal table causing the lab tech to jump.

"Naked Niki Minaj!" yelled Greg and Nick burst out laughing.

Greg curled his lip back in disgust and said through his teeth, "Grow up, Stokes."

"No, way, Man," said Nick breathless from laughing, "Being a kid is way too much fun."

Greg rolled his eyes and said, "In case you're interested, the fibre from your Vic is underneath the microscope."

Nick, still chuckling, bent over the comparison microscope. "Trilobal means it's from a car. Have you isolated what type of car this type of fibre comes from?"

Before Nick had even finished Greg had handed him a piece of paper, "Fibre is from a BMW X5 with a blue interior."

"Well, that seems to be the car of choice in this case," mused Nick.

"Looks that way," Greg said, "Hey, I saw the New Girl. And wow, she's hot! Sassy too, I like it."

"Off limits, Greg," said Nick with a warning smile as he backed out of the lab.

"What? You calling dibs now?" Greg asked with a smirk.

Nick gave a full fledged grin and said, "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Well, a little healthy competition would do you good, Stokes."

Nick rolled his eyes, picked up the report and left the lab saying, "Trust me, Greggo. There's no competition."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin walked a little farther down the hall and entered the fingerprinting lab. She grabbed a white lab coat that hung on a hook near the door and slipped it on. She laid the cellophane bags down on the metal table next to a glass box. Griffin grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the cardboard box that was lying on the table and tugged them on over her hands. She opened the evidence bag and gently pulled out the duct tape. She laid it down on the table and the turned to the glass box. She flipped the lid up and over the box before she picked up the duct tape. Inside the glass box was a line and two metallic clothes pegs along with a small burner; Griffin picked up the tape then attached them to the clips.

She removed the small, hallow, soft tin cup from the box and picked up the tube of super glue. Griffin squirted a bit of the glue into the tin cup and replaced it on the burner and closed the glass flap.

Griffin turned on the burner and watched as a smoky gas filled the glass box. She narrowed her eyes and gave a small smile as she saw a near perfect print appear on the silver tape. Griffin switched off the burner and carefully removed the tape from the clips. She lay the tape down once again on the table in front of her and then reached for the camera. The camera was set up on a small tripod facing downwards with two flashes on either side of the lens. Griffin placed a marker next to the tape then placed camera over the tape, picked up the remote, and shot three series of pictures of the print. She then removed the memory card from the camera and inserted it into the computer. Griffin watched as the print appeared on the screen.

"Hey."

Griffin turned and saw another tech standing in the doorway. She gave him a once over with her eyes. He was tall with very dark eyes, and blonde hair streaked with darker shades of blonde. Kinda a Californian, Surfer boy look.

"Hey," she said turning back to the computer.

"I'm Ian," he said.

"Griffin," said Griffin absent minded.

"You need me to run that print?" Ian asked.

Griffin looked up at him and arched one of her dark eyebrows.

Ian gave an attractive smile and said, pointing to himself, "Fingerprint tech."

"Oh," said Griffin, "Um, sure." She got up out of the chair and offered it to Ian. "Sorry," she said, "I'm used to doing my own lab work."

Ian smiled again and said sitting and looking up at her, "Well, I wouldn't complain if someone as beautiful as you commandeered my lab."

Griffin smiled and shook her head a little (wondering if everyone with a Y chromosome in this lab would be hitting on her) before she replied, "Run it through AFIS, please. If you get a hit give me a call?"

"You can count on it," chuckled Ian with a cocky smile. Griffin gave one last smile, shook her head and left the fingerprint lab.


	9. Chapter 9

**My newest chapter. Enjoy.**

**IronAngel 420.**

Catherine stood on the left side of a metal slab that Doc Robbins had just pulled out of a refrigerated draw. Next to her stood Robbins and opposite Catherine on the other side was Vanessa Barett. On the slab was an undistinguished lump covered with a white sheet. Catherine looked up at Vanessa and said in a gentle voice, "Mrs. Barett, we know this is hard for you. But the sooner we I.D. this body, the sooner we can continue our investigation."

Vanessa's eyes were riveted on the slab. They almost seemed glazed over and she was clutching her purse to her chest. Her hair was dishevelled, as if she had not even used a brush when she tied it up. Her clothes were simple, but creased, and she had dark, bruise-like shadows under her eyes.

"Mrs. Barett?" coaxed Catherine.

Vanessa looked up; her eyes filled with what looked almost like hysteria. She swallowed and looked down at the slab, and said in a quiet voice, "I'm...I'm ready."

Catherine looked at the ME and he pulled back the sheet. The child lay pale and lifeless; her blonde hair still slightly damp. The sutures from the Y incision were barely visible beneath the sheet. Vanessa's hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sob that ripped itself from her throat. She squeezed her eyes closed and turned her head away. Catherine looked at Doc Robbins and he looked at her. Vanessa took a deep breath and looked back at the child, removing her hand from her mouth. She gave a shaky smile and reached out her hand to gently brush a lock of the girl's golden hair from her face. Vanessa shut her eyes again and her chin trembled. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"Mrs. Barett?" asked Catherine, "Is this your daughter?"

Vanessa opened her eyes, nodded her head.

Catherine turned to Doc Robbins and she nodded her head for him to recover the body. Catherine ushered the distraught ADA out of the morgue.

Vanessa collapsed onto one of the benches lining the wall. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry with heavy sobs. Catherine sat down next to Vanessa and laid a hand on the crying woman's back. Vanessa cried for a while, then took a deep breath and looked up. She gave a wobbly smile and Catherine handed her a tissue.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," said Catherine.

Vanessa turned her head towards the door and said, "I never imagined myself ever having to do something like that. Seeing my child...my perfect ba...my perfect baby lying so still, so lifeless."

Catherine felt her heart break for the woman, "I really, truly am sorry," she said.

Turning to the criminalist Vanessa asked, "Do you have kids?"

Catherine gave a small smile and nodded her head saying, "A daughter, Lindsey, she's seven."

Vanessa glanced down at Catherine's hands, which were folded in her lap.

"You're not married?"

Catherine shook her head.

"Single mother? That must be tough," sympathised Vanessa.

Catherine shrugged and said, "You do what you can. Listen, have you been able to think of anyone who would want to hurt Kimmy? Anyone at all?"

Vanessa took a shaky breath, "No, I can't think of anyone."

Catherine took a deep breath and let her shoulders slump slightly.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara entered the break room where Griffin sat in a chair, her legs crossed at the ankles and resting on top of the table. She had a sketch pad in her lap, and her hand was flying over the paper.

"Hey," said Sara pausing in the doorway.

Griffin looked up from her pad and turned her head towards the door, "Hi there."

A delicious smell wafted from the room and Sara suddenly remembered that she had last eaten sometime last century.

"Is that food I smell?" asked Sara, her eyes zeroing in on the two pizza boxes stacked on top of each other on the table.

Griffin looked up and smiled, "Yeah. You know it was the weirdest thing. I ordered one, small pizza, and the pizza delivery guy delivered two, extra large pizzas."

"Really?" said Sara in a mocking tone.

Looking back down at her pad Griffin said, "Yeah, so please, help yourself. There is no way I'll be able to finish all of that. Left one is vegetarian."

"You know," said Sara as she opened the pizza box, selecting a real cheesy slice, "It's against the law to bribe a law enforcement officer."

Without looking up from her pad Griffin said absent-mindedly, "First time offenders get off easy."

Sara smiled, "How'd you know I was vegetarian?"

Griffin shrugged, "Lucky guess."

Just then Nick came in and said, "God! It smells like cheese and bacon in here."

Nick flopped into a chair next to Sara and she handed him the pizza box.

"New girl's trying to bribe us into liking her," said Sara good-naturedly. Griffin was still concentrating on her pad, but she smiled slightly.

"Really?" said Nick taking a mouth full of pizza.

Griffin looked up and asked, "Is it working?"

"Oh, most definitely," Nick said taking another piece of pizza from the box and held eye contact with her, grinning.

Warrick walked in looking beat and Griffin looked away from Nick. Warrick fell into a chair. Without saying a word Nick handed him the box. Warrick picked up a slice and took a bite.

"You look beat," said Sara.

Warrick just grunted and took another bite of his pizza. Griffin flipped her sketch pad closed, dropped it onto the table, got up and went to the fridge. She had just opened it when Catherine walked in.

Nick bent his head back and looked up at Catherine. Righting his head, he smiled and said, "Catherine, you look even worse than Rick over here."

Catherine slapped him gently over the back of his head as she walked around the room and at down with a huff on the couch.

Griffin looked up from the fridge at Catherine and said, "You look like you could use something a little stronger, but I'm afraid the only thing we have on tap is soda or fruit juice."

Catherine closed her eyes and said, "I'll take a soda."

"You want some of this?" Warrick asked offering Catherine the pizza box.

"Sure, why not?" said Catherine sitting up and taking a piece of pizza from the offered box.

"So, why do you look so down?" asked Nick.

"I just came from the morgue. Vanessa Barett positively I. the body as her daughter," said Catherine with a sigh.

Everyone fell silent. Griffin was the first to break the silence by saying, "Was there ever any doubt in any one of our minds that it wasn't Kimmy?"

Sara shook her head and said, "No, but it's still hard."

Griffin handed the soda to Catherine and took her seat again.

"Can you imagine losing a child like that?" asked Nick.

"I can," said Catherine soberly taking a sip of her soda. Griffin's watch beeped and she looked at the time. She stopped the alarm and opened her bag.

"We've got to catch this bastard," said Sara.

"How?" asked Warrick, "I don't know 'bout you guys, but I'm out of ideas."

"Maybe we missed something...?" Sara trailed off and frowned slightly as she saw Griffin take out a leather pack and produced a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The young woman then proceeded to locate a vein in her arm and injected the fluid in. Griffin shook her head, as if trying to shake off dizziness. She noticed that the room had gone silent and she looked up. Everyone was staring at her.

"What?" she asked as she pulled the needle from her arm, "Never seen a diabetic take insulin before?"

The team quickly averted their eyes and resumed their conversation. Except Sara, she was suddenly overcome with worry. Griffin seemed like such a strong woman, seeing this vulnerable aspect of her awoke a strange sense of protectiveness in Sara. She couldn't understand why though. Sara had never felt such a connection with anyone before. Not even Grissom.

As if summoned by Sara's thoughts, Grissom entered the break room and took in his team sitting with haggard faces and drooping eyes.

"How long have you all been here?" he asked.

"Not as long as you, Boss," said Warrick.

Grissom quirked an eyebrow at him and Catherine replied, "About twenty hours. We're all on the far side of a double."

Grissom sighed and dumped his file on the table, "Anyone in the middle of something?"

Everyone shook their heads except Griffin who said, "I'm waiting on DNA and AFIS."

Grissom nodded his head and said, "Okay, everyone, go home. Get some sleep, we will meet back here later and go over the evidence with fresh eyes. Maybe by then we will have something probative."

The team got up with weary sighs, said good night and left the break room. Griffin paused at the door when she saw Grissom sit down at the table.

"Aren't you leaving, Sir?" she asked.

"Griffin," Grissom said looking up at her, "You don't have to call me 'sir'. It makes me feel old. It's just Grissom."

The side of Griffin's mouth pulled up and she said, "Sign of respect."

Grissom smiled slightly and was just about to shoo her home when her phone rang.

"Griffin," she said answering the phone. She paused for a moment and her face went immediately blank. Grissom got the feeling that beneath this calm was a storm raging. Turning her back to him, Griffin said in a hard voice, "I told you not to call...I don't care, and it's not your decision to make...no, we cannot talk about it later...because there is nothing left to talk about...it's not about you...look I have to go, bye."

Griffin snapped her phone shut with a frustrated sigh.

"Ex-boyfriend?" asked Grissom.

Griffin smirked and said, "I wish. That would be a hell of a lot easier."

Griffin's phone rang again and she looked at the caller I.D. before she took a deep breath and answered it.

"Yeah, Captain, what's up?" she asked. Griffin listened for a few minutes then said, "Great I'll pick them up from you in a few minutes, thanks."

She once again snapped her phone shut, looked at Grissom and asked, "How terribly opposed are you to overtime?"

Grissom said, "Why, what's up?"

"Captain Brass just called. He said that he has the security footage from the DA's office; I was wondering if I could go over them?"

Grissom sighed and said, "Alright, but keep me in the loop."

Griffin grinned and said, "You got it."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin was sitting in the darkened AV room going over the security footage from the DA's office.

"Let's start with the evening of November 23 from about 05:30 p.m." said Griffin to herself staring at the grainy images on the big screen in front of her. She tapped a few keys on the keyboard and she fast forwarded through the tape. She hit another key and the images slowed down to normal speed. Griffin watched about two and a half hours of Vanessa working hard, as usual. People gradually started to empty out of the offices and by 08:30 p.m. Vanessa was completely alone; until a man walked into the office.

Griffin sat up straighter and she narrowed her eyes as she watched the man knock on Vanessa's door and entered. Vanessa stood up with a frown and backed away from the man. The man continued to approach her, but Vanessa held out her hand to stop him. They continued to talk...then argue. The man then grabbed Vanessa and kissed her hard. Vanessa pushed him off and slapped him. Griffin frowned as she watched the man get more and more angry and Vanessa started to cry. The man slammed his fist into the wall and stormed out; Vanessa grabbed her purse and hurried out of her office. Griffin checked the time 08:45 p.m., approximately an hour and fifteen minutes before Michael was killed.

Griffin once again rewound the tape to where the man entered. She zoomed in on his shoes and came up with a pixelated shot. She tapped a few keys to clean up the image. Griffin smiled to herself. The man was wearing light blue jeans, a faded orange T-shirt, with a brown leather jacket...and leather, Doc Marten boots. Griffin's phone rang and she answered it, her eyes still on the screen.

"_Told you I'd call."_

"If you have something for me, Ian, I might even be glad that you did," she said still looking at the screen.

"_I have a name to go with your print."_

"Give!"

Ian chuckled and said, _"Derrick Lander, he's been in jail for the past ten years for armed robbery."_

"Does he have a last known address?" Griffin asked.

"_He does,"_ Ian gave Griffin the address and she hastily jotted it down on a piece of paper.

Griffin smiled and said, "Ian, I owe you one."

"_I'll be back to collect."_

Griffin smiled, shook her head, and snapped the phone shut.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara was startled from her sleep by her phone vibrating on the side table next to her bed. She shook her head, disorientated, then picked up her phone and answered, "Yeah, this is Sara."

"_Sara? It's Archie."_

Sara wiped a hand over her face and yawned, before she said, "Yeah, Archie, what's up?"

"_That USB you brought in? Well, I just finished decoding it."_

"Seriously?" asked Sara suddenly feeling very awake.

"_Yep, but man, that Barett guy is one _hell _of a computer tech."_

"You're the man, Archie," said Sara getting out of bed.

"_Tell me something I don't know."_

Sara snapped her phone shut and quickly got dressed.

Sara walked into the AV lab carrying two cups of coffee in her hand. Archie was sitting in his chair his fingers flying over his keyboard.

"Hey, Archie, you ready for a coffee break yet?" asked Sara.

Archie spun around in his chair and eyed the coffee hungrily. "Always," he said and Sara handed him a cup. Sara watched Archie over the rim of her cup; after the computer tech had taken a few sips Sara said, "Okay, show me what you've got."

Archie set his coffee cup down and tapped on a few keys. "It took a while," said Archie, "But I finally broke through and there were a couple of jpeg files." Archie opened up a file with pictures in it.

Sara's eyes grew wide as she looked at the photos.

"Looks like ADA Barett was involved in a few extra marital activities and they were not with her husband," said Archie.

"You're telling me," said Sara. The photos were of Vanessa and another man, in various sexual positions.

"And you found this in Mr. Barett's pocket?" asked Archie.

"Yeah. If it were Vanessa who had been killed I would have said that this was motive for the husband," said Sara.

"But it was the _husband_ who was killed," said Archie.

Sara frowned as she looked at the stills.

"Something is wrong with these pictures," said Sara.

"What do you mean?" Archie asked.

"Vanessa looks...younger," said Sara.

"Hey, Sara!"

Sara looked over her shoulder and saw Griffin enter into the room carrying a file.

"Listen, I got a print off the tape and it came back to..." Griffin looked up and her eyebrows crashed together and Sara turned and just saw the screen with the photos on. Turning back to Griffin asked, "Something wrong?"

Griffin shook her head and said, "And the print came back to him," she pointed to the guy in photo.

"Him?" asked Sara.

"Yeah, where did you get those?" asked Griffin walking up next to Sara.

Sara turned her head towards Griffin and watched her face, "They were on the USB I found in Michael's pockets. Why?"

Pointing to the screen again Griffin said, "That guy showed up at Vanessa's office at around 08:30 p.m. the night of Michael's murder."

"No way," said Sara in disbelief.

Griffin nodded her head, she handed Sara a still she had isolated from the video surveillance and said, "He left about fifteen minutes later after having a serious argument with Vanessa."

"A lover's quarrel?" asked Archie.

Griffin shrugged and said, "I'm not sure, she seemed pretty pissed off when he kissed her."

"Do you know who he is?" asked Sara.

Griffin nodded and said, "Yeah, I do. You remember that print I got of the duct tape?"

Sara nodded.

"Ian ran it through AFIS, and it came back to one, Derrick Lander. He's a convicted felon. He was arrested eight years for armed robbery."

"How is he linked to Vanessa?" asked Sara.

"We will have to ask her that. I have found no link between Vanessa and Lander. One more thing," Griffin removed another still from her file, this one of an enlarged picture of the guy's shoes, "Check out his shoes."

Sara took the photo and looked over it. She looked at Griffin and said with a raised eyebrow, "Killer boots."

Griffin smiled and said, "Possibly."

Sara said, "You should fill Grissom in."

Griffin snapped the file shut and said, "That's my next stop."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, Guys.**

**I was bored today so I wrote three chapters in the space of an hour and a half. So here's the deal, I'm posting this chapter. And if I get...five reviews, I'll post the next two chapters same time tomorrow. ;)**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 420. **

Grissom sat in his office, busy with what was considered the bane of a CSI's existence: paperwork.

He didn't look up when someone knocked on his door, "Come in."

Griffin came in and sat down in a chair in front of his desk and opened the folder in her lap.

"I got a print," said Griffin opening her file and producing an A4 photograph, "off the tape that was used to tie up Kimmy."

She handed the photo to Grissom and he took it from her.

"Did you run it through AFIS?" asked Grissom looking at the print.

"Yes," said Griffin, "The print belongs to a Derrick Lander."

Grissom frowned and asked, "Does he have a criminal record that he's in the system?"

Griffin nodded her head and said, "Yes."

"How is he connected to the Barett family?" asked Grissom.

"He worked on a governmental building."

Grissom quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Does this governmental building happen to be the DA's office?"

Griffin smiled and said, "One in the same. Ian had the courtesy to pull his driver's licence photo for me." She handed him another photo this one of a handsome, dark haired man with brown, almost black, eyes. "And get this," continued Griffin, "This attractive fellow showed up at the DA's office at 08:30 p.m. and shared quite a heated conversation with the Mrs. Barett."

Grissom looked up at her sharply and asked, "What time did he leave?"

"08:45. Vanessa followed him hastily a few minutes after."

Grissom sat back in silence. Griffin folded her hands in her lap and said, "I told you she was hiding something. She lied to us, Grissom. She might have been working late, but not that late."

Grissom sighed and picked up the phone on his desk. He dialled a number and waited for a few seconds before someone answered and he said, "Brass, its Grissom. I need you to bring Vanessa Barett in for questioning."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Nick and Warrick stood outside of a house that was undergoing construction. They'd both donned sunglasses to ward off the glare of the sun that bounced off the ground. The sounds of construction were all around them, filling the air with the buzzing of electrical saws, the thuds of hammers, and the shout of men conversing with one another. A man stepped out of the crowd and walked towards them. The man was tall, about six-one, with dark hair, sticking out from underneath a yellow hard hat. The man wore a long-sleeved red, flannel shirt, ripped, faded jeans (though if the rips were by accident or design Nick couldn't tell), and brown boots. The man also had sunglasses that hid his eyes, and a clip board in his hand. A utility belt was strapped around his waist.

"Can I help you, Fellas?" he asked shouting slightly to be heard over the din.

"Derrick Lander?" asked Warrick also raising his voice slightly.

"Yeah, that's me," answered the man.

"We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We need to ask you a couple of questions," said Nick holding up his crime lab I.D.

"What's this all about? I finished my parole almost a year ago," said Lander.

"Do you know this woman?" asked Warrick holding up a picture of Vanessa Barett.

Lander nodded and said, "Sure, that's Vanessa Barett. Why? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, sir," said Nick, "but her family isn't. Her husband and daughter were murdered two days ago."

The smile faded from Lander's face, "Oh my god! What happened?"

"That's what we are trying to find out," said Nick.

"What is your relationship with Mrs. Barett, Mr. Lander?" asked Warrick.

"Why?" asked Lander suddenly suspicious.

"Just answer the question, Mr. Lander," said Nick.

Lander placed his hands on his hips and shrugged saying, "There is no relationship. I did some work at her office, that's all."

"Are you sure, Mr. Lander?" asked Warrick.

Lander folded his arms and took a step towards Warrick, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Nick took out a still of Lander kissing Vanessa.

Lander looked at the picture before he took it from Nick and looked a little longer at it.

"I must commend you, sir, on your wonderful customer care," said Nick sarcastically.

Lander looked up at Nick and his eyes turned to daggers. The term 'if looks could kill' came to Warrick's mind.

"You don't know anything, so keep your mouth shut, you little twerp," said Lander pointing a finger at Nick. Nick bristled and Warrick stepped between the suspect and his partner saying, "Please, Mr. Lander, just answer the question. What was your relationship with Vanessa Barett?"

Lander tore his eyes away from Nick and said to Warrick, "A misunderstanding. I've been working at the DA's building and we chatted a few times. I thought there was something there, but obviously she didn't think so. I kissed her; she got pissed off and slapped me."

"That must have wounded your ego," said Warrick.

Lander shrugged and said, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"What did you do after this little get together?" asked Warrick.

"Went to a bar picked up a blonde, went back to her place."

"What time was that?" asked Warrick.

"'Bout one a.m. I left about three hours later, went home, fell into bed and slept 'til about ten," said Lander.

"You have this blonde's number so that we can confirm your alibi?"

"Never got that serious," said Lander with a cocky smile.

"And I bet you don't remember her name," said Warrick.

"I don't really remember a lot of significant details, I was pretty drunk."

Something on Lander's neck caught Nick's eye and he pulled his sunglasses off and narrowed his eyes.

"Those are some nasty scratches on your neck, Mr. Lander. How did you get them?" asked Nick mock innocently.

Lander covered the scratches with his hand and said, smiling arrogantly, "That blonde liked it rough."

Behind his sunglasses Warrick rolled his eyes. _What an asshole_, he thought.

"Can you explain why your fingerprint was found on some duct tape that was used to tie up Kimmy Barett, Mr. Lander?" asked Nick.

Lander looked from one criminalist to the other and he said in disbelief, "You don't think _I_ had something to do with this?"

Both men remained silent.

"What's my motive?! I made a pass on a chick, she didn't want it. End of story. I'm not some kind of psycho who'd go and kill her family because she shot me down."

"The evidence doesn't lie, Mr. Lander," said Nick, "And your print _is _on that tape."

"Look," said Lander, "I'll level with you guys. My tool box was stolen about a week ago and I had a roll of duct tape in there!"

"Did you report it?" asked Warrick.

"No, I didn't want to bother you civil servants with something as trifle as that. There wasn't even anything valuable in it."

"How considerate of you," said Warrick dryly.

"Mr. Lander," said Nick pulling out a DNA swab, "I'd like to take a sample of your DNA and I'd like to take a look at your car."

Lander gave a sweet smile and said in a friendly voice, "You guys want my DNA and my car?" his face darkened severely as he said, "Get a warrant."

With that he turned and walked away. Warrick and Nick watched as he got into a dark blue, Mercedes X5 and drove away.

"Oh, you can count on that, Mr. Lander," said Nick to himself.

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Thank you for coming down, Mrs. Barett," said Brass placing a file on the metal table as Vanessa took a seat. Brass was once again in the interrogation room, this time alone; though Griffin, Grissom and Sara were on the other side of the one way mirror in the observation booth.

"You said on the phone you had some more question, Captain. But I've told you everything I know," said Vanessa slightly confused.

"And I appreciate your cooperation. We received some new information, and we just want to clarify a few things," said Brass as he took a seat opposite Vanessa.

"Well, ask away," said Vanessa holding her head slightly higher.

Brass laid a photo of Derrick Lander on the table and asked, "Do you know this man?"

Vanessa looked at the picture and swallowed hard before she looked up and said, "That's Derrick Lander; he worked on the building I work in."

Brass laid out another picture, this one of Lander and Vanessa kissing in her office. He slid it in front of Vanessa without saying anything.

Vanessa placed a hand on the picture and her lips quivered slightly as she looked up at Brass.

Brass looked into Vanessa's eyes and said gently, "Mrs. Barett?"

Vanessa took a deep breath and seemed to regain some of her composure as she said, "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it, Mrs. Barett. Because it _looks_ like you were cheating on your husband," said Brass as he laid down the pictures they had found on Michael's USB.

"I would _never_ do that to Michael!" yelled Vanessa. "Michael was the sweetest, most kind hearted man I'd ever met! Sure, we had our problems, all couples do, but I _loved_ my husband."

"Sure looks like it," said Brass moving one of the pictures forward, the one of Vanessa and Lander having sex in what looked like someone's apartment.

Vanessa looked down at the pictures for the first time and her mouth fell open.

"Where did you get these?" she asked.

"On a USB found on your husband's person."

Vanessa covered her mouth. She shut her eyes and tears poured down her cheeks.

She sniffed, opened her eyes, picked up the picture and said in a choked voice, "God that explains so much."

Brass motioned for her to continue.

"Michael had been acting odd lately. Angry. Irritable. I thought it was because I'd been working longer hours. I was in the middle of a huge case and I was rarely home. But this must be the real reason."

"Mrs. Barett, please just give me a straight answer," said Brass, "Who is Derrick Lander?"

"I was sixteen when I met Derrick. My parents were quite strict, I was a stupid kid, and Derrick was the town bad boy. My friends were so jealous when Derrick and I started dating, and I was over the moon because this college guy liked me. My parents, of course, didn't approve, so eventually I stopped telling them where I was going."

Vanessa took a deep breath before she continued, "The first time we had sex was two months after we met. It was my first time and it...hurt; it hurt a lot. But I was terrified of losing Derrick, if I said no. So, when he suggested something to help with the pain, I...took it."

"What did he give you?" asked Brass.

"Cocaine. Turned out Derrick was a drug addict, and he got me hooked too. At first it was fun, it was always a party with Derrick. He took me to clubs, bought me expensive gifts. He was...adventurous in bed, sometimes I was reluctant to do the things he wanted, he would act cool with it, but then he'd just get the alcohol and the drugs and eventually I was up for anything (That's when the pictures were taken). Derrick seemed to realize this was the key to my co-operation, so he kept the alcohol and drugs flowing.

"One night, Derrick seemed apprehensive. He was irritable and jumpy. We had just left the club when we got jumped by these goons. They held me against a wall while they beat Derrick up. Apparently, Derrick owed these guys money, and they said if he didn't pay up...they'd kill him and take me as payment. So, Derrick came up with this brilliant plan to rob a convenience store. He convinced me to help him. The night it went down, things went horribly wrong and to cut a long story short, we got caught. Derrick and I got split up. I was seventeen at the time and scared out of my mind. So, I called my parents. My dad was also a lawyer and managed to get me a deal. I would get off, my record would be expunged after I completed rehab, but I was never allowed to see Derrick Lander again. At the time I thought it was a fate worse than death, but I had no choice but to go along with it. So Derrick went to prison and I went to rehab. I got my life together. Caught up on my school, got into Harvard Law and made a better life for myself. I met Michael and I discovered what real love is."

"What happened to Derrick?" Brass asked.

"As per my plea agreement, I never saw or heard from him again, but I heard the judge came down pretty hard on him. He wasn't a first time offender. To be honest I didn't want to have anything to do with him. Then he walked into my office the night Michael was killed. I nearly had a heart attack."

"What did he want?" asked Brass.

"To pick up where we left off," said Vanessa. "He said he was clean. That he was a construction worker, that Fate had given us a second chance when he got a job at my office. I told him I didn't want anything to do with him, that I was married and a mother. That I loved my husband. He said he didn't believe me so he tried to kiss me. I slapped him and told him I'd never loved him. He got very angry. Said I belonged to him and he'd have me no matter the cost. I told him I would call the police, he slammed his fist into the wall and stormed out."

"What did you do next, Mrs Barett?"

"I wanted to head home, but I ended up driving aimlessly around Vegas. I was in kind of a daze. I'm not sure how long I drove around for, but when the daze broke, I was frightened. I just wanted to get home. I wanted Michael to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay. But when I got home...I just sat in the driveway. I didn't know how to explain any of this to him. I thought he would start seeing me as some crack whore and not the woman he married. When I finally worked up the courage to go inside...I was too late. He was already dead," Vanessa's voice broke and she began to sob.

Brass handed her a tissue and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly a knock that came from behind the one way window. He looked up, excused himself and exited the interrogation room.

"That is one screwed up story," whistled Brass.

"You're telling me," said Griffin.

Sara phone beeped and she checked her text, "Its Greg. The DNA found at the first crime scene, the DNA underneath Kimmy's nails and on the edges of the duct tape are all from a male contributor."

"I think we need to pay a visit to this Lander guy," said Brass.

"I couldn't agree more, Jim," said Grissom.


	11. Chapter 11

"Alright," said Grissom crossing his arms, "So what do we know now, that we didn't know at our last meeting?"

The team had assembled in Grissom's office and everyone was ready to close this case.

"Well," said Nick sitting forward in his chair as he clasped his hands, "We know that Vanessa Barett has serious history with a convicted felon called Derrick Lander, who's also a construction worker. Warrick and I went to pay Mr. Lander a little visit and he was less than cooperative. He also revealed himself to be a major asshole."

"He did admit," Warrick chipped in, "that he was made a pass at Mrs. Barett."

"But he never mentioned that he had a prior relationship with Vanessa," said Nick. "Mr. Lander is also the proud owner of a dark blue, Mercedes X5."

"Do you think we have enough for a warrant?" Griffin asked from her place next to Sara.

"Well," said Nick turning to her, "Lander's fingerprints were on the tape, he had scratches on his neck, Doc Marten boots (probably a size eleven), he knew where the victims lived..."

"He also had a pretty strong motive for getting rid of Michael," said Catherine.

"Yeah," said Sara, "But according to Vanessa, Michael never knew about her past."

"The guy said his tool kit was stolen and that he had tape in there," said Warrick.

"What are the odds that it was _his_ stolen tape and _his_ past lover's daughter that was tied up with said tape?" asked Catherine. "_If_ Lander wanted to win Vanessa back, why kidnap Kimmy in the first place? Why kill her? Vanessa loved her daughter."

"Maybe that was the point," suggested Griffin, "If Lander wanted to start over with Vanessa, if (in his own twisted way) he genuinely loved her, maybe he wanted a clean slate."

"A clean slate?" asked Nick.

"Yeah, maybe he saw Vanessa's family as an obstacle. Get rid of the family, get rid of the problem," explained Griffin.

"The question is," said Grissom and everyone turned their attention to the boss, "Do we have probable cause for a warrant?"

"If you ask me," said Catherine flicking her red hair over her shoulder, "It's circumstantial, at best."

"Can't we even try _talking_ to a judge?" Griffin asked Grissom.

Grissom pursed his lips and pondered their dilemma for a few moments. He grimaced before he said, "I'll give Culpepper a call. Maybe if the FBI _and_ CSI talk to a judge it might have some more effect.

"Now, go home," Grissom ordered Griffin.

Griffin sat up straighter and said, "What?"

"You've been here 26 hours straight, Griffin. You need to get some rest, otherwise you'll start to miss things," said Grissom.

"He's right, Griffin," said Catherine, "You did a fantastic job. Go home and get some sleep, you deserve it."

Griffin grimaced and said, "Crime doesn't sleep so why should Justice?"

"Because there are more criminals than officers," offered Sara wryly.

Griffin scowled at them for ganging up on her. As she stood she gave Grissom a pointed look and said, "I would like to be there when you serve the warrant."

"And I'd like a bigger budget for the lab, we don't always get what we want," said Grissom.

Griffin narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. She gave a curt nod before saying, "Fine," and she left.

Nick chuckled shaking his head as he said, "You gotta give her ten out of ten of enthusiasm."

Catherine and Sara nodded their heads and Grissom said, "Okay, you guys have work to do and I've got a phone call to make. So shoo."

The team got up and left Grissom's office as he picked up his phone and dialled a number.

"_FBI."_

"Hi, this is LVPD Crime Lab supervisor Gil Grissom. I'd like to speak with Special Agent Rick Culpepper, please."

"_One moment, please,"_ said the young woman. A few moments passed then Culpepper answered and said, _"What can I help you with, Grissom?"_

"We've had a few new developments in the case," said Grissom.

"_Let's hear it,"_ said Culpepper.

Grissom brought him up to speed on all the new information they had gathered.

"_You've been busy, Grissom."_

"I always am, Culpepper, but I can't take much credit. My people have been working round the clock," Grissom said.

"_So what you need me to do?"_

"We need a warrant for Lander's DNA and his car and shoes. Would it be possible for you to come with me to see a judge?" asked Grissom.

"_Who did you have in mind?"_

Grissom suggested a judge.

"_Sounds good. I'll meet you at the court house in...Half an hour?"_

"I'll see you there," said Grissom.

And they hung up.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom stood outside the court house about twenty five minutes later waiting in the morning sun. He had donned his sunglasses and was sipping a cup of coffee.

"Grissom!"

Grissom looked around and saw Culpepper walking over to him.

"Rick," Grissom greeted.

"Shall we do this," Culpepper asked.

Grissom nodded and headed up the stairs with Culpepper at his side.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Two hours later the FBI Agent and the CSI walked out of the courthouse, warrant in hand. Just then Culpepper received a call so Grissom waited for him to finish. Culpepper snapped his phone shut and walked back to Grissom.

"Grissom," he said, "I need to get back to the FBI HQ. There has been a really big break in another case I'm working on and they need me back there."

"That's okay, my people can handle it, like we have been the whole time," said Grissom.

Culpepper rolled his eyes and said as he walked away, "If you say so."

Grissom rolled his eyes. He thought for a moment before he pulled out his phone and punched in a number. She answered on the first ring as if she'd been sitting staring at the phone.

"_Griffin,"_ she said.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep," said Grissom walking down the steps.

"_You think I could sleep? With the case this close to breaking?"_ asked Griffin.

"Good point," relented Grissom.

"_So...do you have it?"_ asked Griffin eagerly.

"You're not one for small talk, are you?" asked Grissom.

"_Neither are you,"_ she countered.

"Touché."

"_Grissom,"_ she said in an irritated voice.

He chuckled once and said, "Yes, I've got the warrant."

"_Great,"_ Griffin said and it sounded as if she were moving around, _"Where do I meet you?"_

"At the construction site."

"_Cool, see you in ten."_

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom stood with Nick and Warrick and watched as a Department issued Denali pulled up a few feet away from them. Griffin got out of the car and locked it with her remote. At least she seemed to be more rested than the last time he had seen her. She was dressed in a black T-shirt under a black, leather jacket; she wore charcoal cargo pants and her black combat boots. Her long, silky hair was tied back in a French braid, but a piece of her fringe had pulled out and it hang over her left eye, which were covered with her black Ray Banns. In her hand she carried her silver, flight-case like, field kit.

"Grissom," she greeted as she reached his side, "Nick, Warrick."

"Griffin," he greeted back and Nick and Warrick nodded their heads at her.

"You serve the warrant yet?" she asked.

Grissom shook his head and said, "One of the workers went to find Lander."

They all looked up as Lander came out of a trailer and headed towards them. The suspect stopped in front of them, looked at Nick and Warrick and said with a scowl, "This is goddamned harassment."

Grissom handed the warrant to Lander and he snatched it from Grissom's hand. He read it over and looked up with a scowl on his face.

"What the hell is this?!" he asked indignantly.

"That," said Nick, "is a warrant for your DNA, your shoes, your car and to have a look at your arms."

Griffin slipped on a pair of latex gloves took out a DNA swab and said, "Open up, please, sir."

Lander clenched his jaw and glared at her. Griffin seemed tiny in comparison with Lander, he towered over her. Nick almost wanted to move her behind his back; Lander was emanating a malevolent aura and it made Nick nervous. It didn't seem to be affecting Griffin though. She just raised an eyebrow at him and held the swab up higher. Lander reluctantly opened his mouth and Griffin swiftly swabbed the inside of his cheek. She then placed her field kit on the tar and knelt down next to it, then pulled out a large, clear evidence bag. Griffin stood and said to Lander, "Your shoes, sir."

Lander's lip jerked up slightly and he pulled his boots off. He handed it to Griffin and she took them gingerly so as not to corrupt any trace evidence. She slipped the boots into the evidence bag, then stood and said, "Roll up your sleeves, please."

Lander clenched his jaw as he pulled the buttons open on the sleeves of his shirt and yanked them up to his elbows. Griffin got her camera out and aimed it at his arms saying, "Palms down."

Lander exposed the tops of his forearms and Griffin took two shots of each.

"Undersides," ordered Griffin.

Lander reluctantly turned his arms over exposing the undersides of his forearms. On his left arm was a long, nasty looking cut that was red and inflamed. Griffin looked at the cut and then up at Lander, "That blonde must have been really kinky, sir."

Lander scowled again and said, "I'm a construction worker, Miss. Accidents happen."

Griffin gave a lopsided smile and said, "They sure do. Even for the most _careful_ of workers."

Returning the camera slowly to her eye she continued documenting the evidence.

The tow truck arrived and Warrick went off to met the driver and instruct him on which car needed to be towed. Lander watched this silently; rolling his shirt sleeves back down he asked, "How long before I get my stuff back?"

Grissom looked at him from behind his sunglasses and said, "As long as it takes."

Lander snorted and said, "I've got work to do. Can I go now?"

Grissom nodded his head and Lander turned and walked back to the trailer.

He watched Lander walk away before he pulled out his phone and dialled a number.

"Brass...it's Grissom. Listen, I need you to put a uniform on Lander...yeah he's still at the construction site. Thanks," Grissom snapped his cell phone shut.

"You think he's gonna run, Boss?" asked Warrick.

"It's a possibility," answered Grissom. "Let's get this evidence processed. Nick, I want you to stay here and stake out Lander with the uni," said Grissom.

"You got it, Griss," said Nick nodding his head.

Grissom and Warrick walked to the Denali they had arrived in and Griffin got into her car. They drove back to the LVPD Crime Lab.


	12. Chapter 12

Back at the lab, Warrick was looking over the shoes seized from Derrick Lander. Wearing his latex gloves he picked up the left shoe. Picking up his flashlight with his free hand, Warrick carefully trailed the beam over the shoe. Squinting, he flipped it over so that the sole was exposed. Warrick used his flashlight to enhance any evidence that might be hidden in the shadows of the nooks and crannies of the shoe. Something red caught his eye. Warrick held his breath; he held the flashlight closer, and sure enough, there on the sole of the boot were several, small, red dots. Warrick placed his flashlight down on the table and rifled through his kit until he found a swab. The swab didn't immediately turn pink, so Warrick added a drop of hydrogen peroxide to the swab. The swab turned a lovely, bright pink. He held up the swab and said in a self-satisfied voice, "Bingo."

**CSICSICSICSI**

"You ready?" Sara asked Griffin.

"Are you?" Griffin replied. Sara grinned and walked over to the car. The two of them were in the CSI garage with Lander's car. Both had slipped into dark blue overalls over their street clothes.

"I'll take the backseat and the trunk if you want the front," said Griffin.

Sara shrugged as she opened the driver's side door. Griffin walked over with Sara, pulling her hair into a pony tail. She started with the trunk first. She clicked on her flashlight and went over the floor piece by piece.

"Looks like the carpet in here could match the fibres from Kimmy's clothes," Griffin called out to Sara, "I'll get a Sample to Zane."

The light bounced off something light on the dark carpet. Griffin frowned and reached into the pocket of her overall and pulled out a pair of tweezers. She grimaced as she reached into the trunk and grabbed the object between the prongs. Griffin held the tweezers closer to her face as she peered at the object. It was a hair. A fine, wavy, golden strand of hair.

"Hey, Sara?" called Griffin still looking at the hair.

"Yeah?" she answered, her voice was somewhat muffled because she was looking underneath the passenger's seat.

"I think I might have just found proof that Kimmy Barett was in this trunk."

Griffin heard some scraping and a muffled groan as Sara manoeuvred herself out from under the passenger's seat. Sara came around the car, her hair was pulling out of her pony tail and it hung haphazardly around her face.

"What you find?" she asked.

Griffin held the tweezers up and Sara took the tweezers from her staring at the hair.

"We won't know for sure until Greg gets through with it," said Sara.

"Though it's a pretty good guess that it's Kimmy's," said Griffin reclaiming the tweezers.

"Leave the guessing for the detectives, we work with facts. Let's get back to work," said Sara returning to the driver's door as she manoeuvred her torso under the steering wheel. Griffin bagged the hair and went back to the trunk. The rest of the trunk was clear, so Griffin moved on to the backseat. She opened the door and went over the carpet and the seat on the right side. Nothing. She climbed into the backseat and went over the left side. It was about ten minutes later when Sara said.

"Griffin?"

Griffin looked up, brushed the hair from her face and said, "Uh huh?"

"I've got blood."

Griffin carefully got out of the backseat and came around to stand next to Sara. Sara was kneeling by the driver's side and she had her orange goggles on her eyes and an ultra violet light in her hand.

"Where?" Griffin asked.

Sara handed Griffin the goggles, turned back to the car and switched on her UV light. The acceleration pedal lit up with a luminous blue colour. Griffin looked at Sara and asked, "Is there enough to get a sample?"

"Not on the pedal," said Sara, "But..." Sara sprayed some of the Luminol onto the carpet and a shoe print lit up in the luminous blue colour.

"We have enough here," said Sara.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara paced the length of the break room. Griffin was seated at one of the tables and her hand was once again flying over her sketch pad. The two of them were waiting on the lab results for the evidence that they had submitted; they couldn't continue with their case until they had their results. Warrick walked in and grabbed a cup of coffee before flopping down on the couch. He wiped a hand over his face and rested his head against the wall behind the couch.

"What you waiting for?" asked Sara not pausing her pacing.

" DNA. You?" said Warrick opening his juice and taking a sip.

"DNA and Trace. We found blood on the acceleration pedal," said Sara.

"And a long, blonde hair in the trunk," said Griffin not looking up from her pad.

Grissom entered in the room with a few files in his arms, Catherine by his side. Sara stopped pacing and looked up as her mentor entered the room and Griffin abandoned her sketch pad. Grissom stopped and said, "And you are all sitting around here...because?"

Taking another sip of his coffee Warrick replied, "We're waiting on the Lab Rats."

"Really?" said Grissom going over to the counter to place the files down. He poured himself a cup of coffee. Catherine sat down at the same table as Griffin and crossed her legs.

"Yeah, but," said Griffin crossing her arms, "the elves are taking a while in making our boots."

Grissom took a sip of his coffee, grimaced, and chucked it down the drain before picking up the files and coming to sit at the same table Griffin and Catherine was sitting at.

"Well," said Grissom picking up one file and throwing it to Warrick, "Christmas," Grissom tossed a file to Sara, "has come early," he slid the final file across the table to Griffin who stopped it with her hand. All three simultaneously opened the files. Warrick was the first one to speak, "The DNA on Lander's shoes matches the DNA of Michael Barett. The shoe size and pattern were also a match to the one Grissom found in the house."

Sara spoke next, "Carpet fibres that we found on Kimmy's clothes are a match to the carpet in Lander's Mercedes, and the tyres are a match to the tyre tracks found outside the Barett residence."

Sara looked up at Griffin and said, "The blood on the carpet on the driver's side and on the pedal is also a match to Michael Barett. What have you got?"

"DNA report from the hair we found in the trunk," said Griffin reading from the file.

"And?" asked Sara.

"And the DNA from the hair is a match to Kimmy," said Griffin looking up.

"That proves Kimmy's presence in the trunk of Lander's car," said Warrick.

"One more thing," said Griffin, "Greg matched the DNA I found on the duct tape, the DNA from underneath Kimmy's nails, and the errant DNA from the primary crime scene, as belonging to one donor...Derrick Lander."

"That's it," said Sara smiling, "We got the bastard."

Catherine gave a satisfied smile and Griffin asked eagerly, "We have enough for an arrest warrant?"

Grissom shrugged with his mouth, leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together saying, "We have his blood and his tyre tracks at both crime scenes, his shoe print at the first crime scene, and Kimmy's hair in the back of his trunk. He also has a nasty gash on his arm. I think we have enough for a warrant."

Sara smiled, Griffin relaxed in her chair and Grissom sat back crossing his arms, a satisfied smile on his face. At that moment Brass and Nick walked into the room, looking perplexed.

Grissom looked up and said, with the smile fading from his face, "Nick, what are you doing here? You're supposed to tailing Lander."

"Grissom ...I...I'm so sorry, we lost him," said Nick.

**CSICSICSICSI**

"You _lost_ him?!" said Grissom bolting to his feet.

Brass stepped in between Grissom and Nick. He placed his hands up in front of him in a placating manner and said, "Grissom, it wasn't his fault. He and the officer were watching closely, but Lander climbed out the back window of his house and he had a motorcycle out back. He left via the back street. There was no way they could've known."

Grissom clenched his jaw and Catherine dropped her head into her hand, shaking her head. Everyone in the room was waiting for Grissom's response. Grissom took a deep breath before he whipped out his cell phone and dialled a number before holding it to his ear. He turned to Sara and said, "You and Griffin get ready, you two are going with me to check out Lander's house."

Sara and Griffin nodded, got up and left the room.

Just then someone picked up on the other side of Grissom's phone call.

"_Culpepper."_

"Rick, it's Grissom, we have a problem," said Grissom.

There was a pause then Culpepper said, _"I'm not surprised. What did you screw up now?"_

Grissom explained the situation in a clipped tone.

"_Shit! That's all we need right now. Can't your team do _anything _right, Grissom?"_

"Lander made my guys, Culpepper. And in case you haven't noticed my team has single handed solved this case. Can you say as much?" Grissom argued.

There was silence on the other end of the phone before Culpepper answered, _"Listen, I can't come down there and clean up your mess right now, what do you need?"_

"I need you to call a judge, we need a warrant to search Lander's house and a warrant for his arrest," said Grissom.

"_Consider it done,"_ said Culpepper and he hung up.

Grissom snapped his phone shut and turned to the rest of his team. "The rest of you wait here, any evidence we find will need to be processed immediately."

Catherine and Warrick nodded but Nick, still feeling guilty, said, "Grissom, please, let me come with you."

"No, Nick. I need you here," said Grissom already on his way out the door.

"Grissom, I know I screwed up but –"

"Nick," said Grissom a little more gently, "Right now I need you to stay here and wait for me to get back. Okay?"

Nick sighed and nodded his head. Grissom nodded at his team one last time then he was gone.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom, Sara, and Griffin stood outside of Lander's house, field kits in their latex gloved hands. Twilight was creeping up on them bringing the cold temperatures down to an all time low. The house itself was not large but it had an adjoining double, lock-up garage on the left side. The lawn was neatly tended, but not extravagant. The windows were covered with blinds, not curtains and there was a walkway that led up to the red door. Grissom walked up to the door with Sara and Griffin flanking him. Officer Dean was standing by waiting with the warrant and would serve it should the need arise.

When Grissom reached the front door, he gingerly turned the knob and the door swung open slowly. The interior was getting darker rapidly, so Grissom pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on. They walked into the spacious living room. It had sort of a 'Sherlock Holmes' feel to it, with a fire place, oversized, stuffed, brown leather chairs. Round side tables a glass and mahogany coffee table. Instead of books though, there was a plasma TV and various sound equipment. Hundreds of CDs with varying artists, some of which Grissom had never heard of before, lined the back wall. To the left was the dining room and kitchen and against the far wall was a hall that led to the master bedroom and the bathroom.

"Sara," said Grissom, "You take the bedroom, then the kitchen. Griffin, you take the garage and living room."

"Where you going?" asked Sara.

"Brass said that this house had a basement; that's where I'm going," said Grissom. Sara and Griffin nodded and headed off to their assigned tasks.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara decided to start in the bedroom. She had clicked on her flashlight when they entered the house and she now allowed it to illuminate a path from the front door, past the living room, through the dining room, to the right and down the hall to the bedroom. The master bedroom was spacious. It was occupied by a queen sized bed covered with a dark blue and black duvet. There was a walk in closet to the left. Facing the bed was another plasma screen TV that hung on the wall.

_Business must be good_, thought Sara as she trailed her flashlight over the room. She walked over to the bed and placed her kit at the foot of it. She knelt down and flicked the case open, pulling out a pistol-like device and a pair of orange goggles. Straightening, Sara grasped the duvet by the top, left corner and pulled it back. She clicked her flashlight off, switched the device (known as RUVIS, an ultra violet tool that illuminated body fluids in the dark) on and ran it over the duvet. Sara didn't find any stains on the sheet, so she pulled that back too and once again ran the RUVIS light over the mattress. Still nothing. Sara turned her attention to the side table drawers. She found a small, plastic bag. Sara reached in and carefully pulled it out of the drawer hoping she wasn't ruining any prints. She lifted it higher and aimed her flashlight at it. The bag was filled with a white, powdery substance.

_I guess Lander isn't as clean as he claimed_, thought Sara as she bagged the cocaine packet. She went over the rest of the room and, other than finding another bag of cocaine, came up with nothing, so she moved onto the kitchen.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin walked into the kitchen and saw a door between a cabinet and the sink. She reached out and opened it. It led to the double garage. She walked in and flicked the light on. The garage was empty, which wasn't surprising as they had Lander's car. A work bench lined the far wall and Griffin walked over to it. There was nothing out of the ordinary here; it was a standard tool bench. It contained some hammers and nails, a few electrical appliances even some cable ties, but no bicycle chain. What did catch her attention, though, was a silver roll of duct tape. Griffin reached into her forensic vest's pocket and pulled out a pair of tweezers and an evidence bag. She used the tweezers as leverage; she slipped it through the hole of the duct tape roll and lifted it. Griffin took a close look at the tape before she slipped it into the evidence bag. On the far corner of the bench stood a half open toolbox. Griffin turned her flashlight on it and something shiny winked at her. Griffin took the two steps necessary so that she stood in front of the tool box. She squinted as she shone the torch on the box.

Griffin reached out and hooked a finger under the lip of the lid so as not to disturb any potential fingerprints. She slowly lifted the lid and gave tight smile when she saw what the source of the glimmer was. Griffin reached in the box and picked up the kitchen knife at the edge of the handle. It looked as if the knife had been cleaned, but that didn't mean that it _was_ clean. Griffin lifted her field kit up onto the bench and, still holding the knife in one hand, flicked the latches up to open it. First, she withdrew the fingerprint powder and her fingerprint brush. She screwed the lid off the bottle, dipped the brush into the black powder then lightly brushed the handle of the knife. Someone had wiped the handle off, but...Griffin squinted and ran the brush over the part of the knife where the blade met the handle. She smiled as she saw a partial print. Griffin pulled out a print lifter, which was really just a piece of tape. She pulled the backing off the tape exposing the sticky adhesive side and laid it over the print, careful to not smudge it. Griffin lifted the print and slipped into a small, brown envelope. Next, she reached into her kit again and pulled out a spray bottle with the word 'Luminol' written on it. Griffin sprayed the luminol liberally onto the knife and watched as the knife began to glow. Blood. She pulled out a swab from her kit and took a Sample of the blood before she bagged the knife for evidence.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom walked down the hall that led towards the bedroom. He could hear Sara hard at work in the bedroom, but that wasn't his destination. Grissom stopped about half way down the hallway and turned to a door that was set in the wall. He turned the knob and opened the door. It was little more than a coat closet, but Grissom knew, from Lara's report, that there was a trap door in the floor. He reached down and, after he moved the shoes and carpet back, he revealed the trap door. The door opened to the left side and when Grissom shone his torch into the hole, he saw there were stairs going down. Grissom stood and placed his left foot into the hole. His foot touched the first step and Grissom placed his right foot in. He kept his flashlight on as he descended the stairs into total darkness. The stairs weren't very long, but in the dark it felt as if it took an eternity to descend. Grissom kept his eyes peeled for a light switch and he found one against the wall the minute he felt solid ground beneath his feet.

Grissom flicked the light switch up and a single light bulb illuminated the room, psycho style. Grissom looked around the room. Unexpectedly, he knew that this was where Kimmy Barett was held. There was a thin mattress in a corner with nothing but a pillow and a skimpy blanket, a bowl of half eaten, soggy cereal next to the bed. Against the wall was a tool bench with a bicycle lying upside down on top of it. There were various tools lying on the bench as well. Grissom went over, took a closer look, and concluded that Lander was obviously repairing the bicycle. Grissom looked back at the mattress and saw something black hiding behind the mattress. He frowned and made his way towards the mattress, but his foot nudge something metallic. Grissom looked down and aimed his flashlight at the object. He crouched to get a better look and he swallowed hard at what he saw.

There on the floor was an old bicycle chain. Undoubtedly from the bicycle Lander had been trying to fix. Grissom lifted his camera, which hung around his neck and snapped a few pics of the chain, before he lifted it and placed it in an evidence bag. Grissom was not, by nature, a betting man, but he would bet his next pay check that epithelia coated that chain and that the DNA would match Kimmy Barett. He returned his attention to the black object he had seen earlier by the bed. He bent down and picked it up. He'd found Kimmy's missing shoes.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara shone her flashlight on a knife block. The rack was made for a set of six knives. There were only five knives on the rack. Sara checked the sink; it was empty. She checked the dishwasher. Other than some plates and glasses, Sara didn't find anything. As she straightened, Griffin came in from the garage. She held her field kit her right hand along with a cellophane evidence bag. Sara looked up at Griffin and gestured to the knife rack saying, "Lander's missing a knife."

Griffin looked at the rack and then switched her field kit from her right hand to her left. She dangled the evidence bag in front of Sara.

"Could this be your missing knife?" asked Griffin.

Sara's mouth fell open. She took the evidence bag from Griffin and held up the bag to get a closer look at the knife. "Where did you find this?"

"In a tool box in the garage," shrugged Griffin, "Along with this," Griffin held up another evidence bag, this one with the roll of duct tape in it. Sara also took this bag from Griffin and said, "Didn't Lander say that his tool box with his duct tape in it was stolen?"

Griffin nodded her head once and said, "Yes, he did."

Sara studied the duct tape and the knife for a few more moments before Griffin asked, "Did you check the sink for blood? Lander could've washed his hands after he came home."

Sara handed the evidence bags back to Griffin, who put them into her field kit. Sara once again got out her bottle of luminol. They walked over to the kitchen sink. Sara sprayed the luminol in the sink and around the drain hole. Griffin handed Sara a pair of orange goggles and then slipped on a pair herself.

"Hit the lights, will you," said Sara slipping on her goggles. Griffin stepped away from the sink and hit the lights before stepping back to the sink, watching as Sara switched on her UV light. The drain hole lit up fluorescent blue. Griffin, who had a swab ready, reached into the drain and wiped along the inside.

Grissom appeared from the hall.

"You two find anything?" he asked.

Sara looked over her shoulder at him and said, "Only blood in the sink, drugs in the closet, and the duct tape we think was used to tie up Kimmy. Oh, and we also found the knife used to kill Michael."

Grissom looked impressed and said, "I found this." He held up his first evidence bag with the bicycle chain. "And this," he held up the bag with Kimmy's shoes.

Sara took that bag from Grissom and said, "It explains why Kimmy didn't have any shoes..."

"I don't think she had them on to begin with," said Grissom. Both women looked at him in confusion, so explained. "Lander has just killed a man and kidnapped a little girl. We have no idea what state of mind he was in, he'd brought Kimmy's clothes, but it's unlikely that he actually helped her dress."

"It wasn't a redress," said Griffin, "It was a five year old who didn't know how to do her own buttons."

"Or tie her shoes," added Grissom.

"Warrick photo enhanced the bruises on Kimmy's neck and confirmed that it was made by a bicycle chain," said Griffin looking at the evidence bag over Sara's shoulder.

Grissom nodded his head, then asked, "Are you two done here?"

Griffin shook her head and said, "I've still got the lounge to work."

Grissom nodded then said, "Okay, Sara, you stay and help her out. It's gonna take a while to work the lounge. Go through everything. Every CD, every DVD."

Sara nodded and said, "You got it."

"I'm going to take the stuff we've collected back to the lab," said Grissom collecting the evidence bags from them.

Grissom left Sara and Griffin in the house and made his way to his car. He knew the uniformed officer would give the two of them a lift back to the lab. Dark had now truly fallen like a thick curtain, pierced only by the twinkling stars, but Grissom knew that the curtain had not yet fallen in this case. It was not time for him and his team to take their bow and close this case. But the time was coming soon. Very soon. So Grissom Daniels left the crime scene and turned his vehicle in the direction of the lab.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom sat in his office nursing a cup of coffee and going over some paperwork that had been left on his desk. He was waiting on lab results and trying not to get impatient. It had been four hours since he had left Lander's house and had submitted the evidence. Grissom had not heard anything back from Sara or Griffin as yet, but he knew they were most likely still working the living room. A BOLO had been put out for Lander and his car. There had been a few sightings, but so far none of them had panned out. Grissom knew that he couldn't rush the evidence. In order to go fast, they had to go slow. But this case was starting to grate on his nerves. He was tired; his people were tired. All of them had been pulling doubles, and Grissom also knew that Catherine had not seen her daughter in a while.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Catherine entered his office with files in her arms.

"You have something for me?" Grissom asked as Catherine took a seat in a chair in front of his desk.

Catherine threw the files onto his desk, crossed her legs and said, "There were two contributors to the epithelia found on the bicycle chain."

Epithelia aka skin cells.

Grissom flipped the file open as Catherine continued, "The epithelia found in the middle of the chain belong to Kimmy, but the epithelia found on the edge of the chain belong to Lander."

"What about the knife?" asked Grissom?

"Also two contributors. Michael Barett was the main contributor, but Gabrielle also found blood belonging to Lander," said Catherine.

"We found blood that belongs to Lander at the crime scene. Griffin had a theory that the killer cut himself, and by the looks of it her theory could be accurate."

"Yeah," said Catherine, "Have you decided if you are going to give her the job?"

Grissom looked at her and said, "No comment."

Catherine smiled and shook her head as she continued with her account, "The powdery substance Sara found in the bedroom _is_ cocaine."

"Lander had fallen back into his nasty old habits," said Grissom.

"One more thing; the blood in the drain is also a match to Michael Barett," concluded Catherine.

Grissom pulled out his phone and said as he dialled Sara's number, "I'm going to give Sara the latest and see if there are any new developments on their side."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin was standing in front of the wall of CDs when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled her phone out and brushed her fringe from her eyes as she checked the caller I.D. before she answered.

"Griffin."

"_Griffin? It's Grissom. Why isn't Sara answering her phone?"_

"Um, not sure," said Griffin looking around the room. She saw Sara behind her, close to the door, going through the magazines on the side tables.

"_Is there anything new on your side?"_ asked Grissom.

"No, nothing so far. How about you?" asked Griffin. She cradled her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder as she continued to go through the CDs.

Grissom filled her in on the lab results of the evidence that had been submitted.

"So we have an airtight case," said Griffin.

"_It would be, if we _had_ Lander,"_ said Grissom.

Griffin held her phone in her hand again and asked, "Still no sign of him?"

"_No, nothing yet, but Brass and Nick are working on the sightings. We _will_ find Lander."_

"Great –" Griffin broke off midsentence when she heard a thump and she turned. The hand that held her cell phone fell away from her ear as she did. The only thing she saw was the butt of a gun as it sailed towards her face, before pain exploded on the side of her head and she collapsed.

Griffin lay on the ground; the only thing she registered before she blacked out, was black shoes and the sound of Grissom 's voice, coming from her phone, calling her name. The pain took over and Griffin blacked out.


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is for SevernSound. Thanks for all your reviews, Dude. I really appreciate them. I hope you'll enjoy it. Sorry about the 'Grissom Daniels' thing. Typo error.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 420.**

Griffin slowly started to come to. There was a horrible pain in the side of her skull, and her vision was blurry, fading from colour to black. She was lying on her side on the floor with her hands folded behind her back. Griffin pulled but found that her hands were tied together; she folded her fingers over to feel her wrists, they were bound with duct tape. So were her ankles. Griffin lifted and turned her head so that she could see the front door. Her stomach flipped. Lander stood over an unconscious Sara, busy wrapping her wrists with duct tape. Griffin strained at her bounds, but the tape was too strong. She looked back at Lander, who had now straightened. He'd finished tying Sara up.

"Mr. Lander?" Griffin said.

Lander spun around and pointed a gun at her. Griffin recognized the gun in a second. It was Sara's Glock. She lifted her eyes from the gun and looked straight into Lander's eyes.

"You're making a huge mistake, Derrick," Griffin said trying to reason with him.

Still pointing the gun at her, Lander said, "Oh yeah?"

"Yes, don't be an idiot. You've been smart so far...don't screw it up now," said Griffin.

Lander gave an awful smile. He bent down and picked Sara up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He looked down at Griffin and said pointing his gun at Sara, "Fortunately, now I have a get out of jail free card."

Lander turned and was about to walk out the door when Griffin called after him, "Lander!"

He turned and she said, "If you harm a single hair on her head, I swear to you, I won't rest until I put a bullet in your head." Griffin threatened, and for one moment Lander felt a chill go down his spine. As he stared into those fathomless brown eyes his mind was filled with images of horrible torture; fates worse than death. Lander covered his nervousness with a smirk and walked out the door leaving Griffin on the floor.

Griffin listened as Lander sped off in a car. For a second she was filled with a crushing pain. She took a deep breath and commanded her body to calm. Griffin then turned her head over her shoulder trying to get a better look at how her hands were tied. She righted her neck and then felt around with her hands until she touched her back pocket. Reaching into her back pocket she pulled out her utility knife. Griffin laid it on the floor right under hands. She then picked up the knife at a better angle and was able to slip it open. Now came the tricky part. She flipped the knife so that the blade rested against her wrists. Holding the handle between two fingers and began to saw through the tape.

"Rule number nine," Griffin grunted, "Always carry a knife."

She grimaced as the tape snapped. Griffin sat up and quickly sliced through the tape that bound her feet. She stood up and was just pulling the leftover tape off her wrists, when sirens split the air with their piercing squeal and blue and red lights flashed in the windows. Griffin hurried to the door, but before she could reach it, the door burst open. Brass stood in the door way, her gun drawn.

"Freeze!" he yelled.

Griffin raised her hands and yelled back, "Hold it! It's me, it's Griffin!"

Brass lowered his gun and Nick pushed past him and hurried over to Griffin. Grissom came in after Nick.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He reached up and gently touched the side of her forehead. Griffin winced, but she brushed him off and said urgently, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Listen, Lander took Sara."

Grissom froze.

"Grissom, did you hear me? _Lander has Sara_!" Griffin repeated.

"What happened? Tell me everything," demanded Grissom.

Griffin took a deep breath before she started. "We were working the sitting room. I was going through the CDs and Sara was looking through the magazines. You called me and I answered my phone. I was talking to you when I heard a noise. I turned, and the next thing I know I'm on the floor tied up. I saw Lander tie Sara up and haul her out of the house. I then managed to get my knife out of my back pocket and I got free."

Grissom clenched his jaw and turned towards the door. No one moved.

Grissom took a deep breath, turned to Griffin and said, "Okay, we treat this like a normal kidnapping. Print the door, see if there are any tyre treads outside, and then let's get back to the lab and see if we can find out where Lander might have taken her. Nick take the perimeter. Griffin and I will work the interior."

"You got it, Boss," said Nick as he left.

Griffin pulled out a pair of latex gloves from her vest. She slipped them on and walked over to where Sara had been attacked. There was something white lying on the floor and Griffin bent to pick it up. It was a white piece of cloth that had definitely not been there when they had arrived. Griffin gently sniffed the cloth and immediately pulled back.

"Grissom?" Griffin called. Grissom walked over to her and Griffin held up the cloth and said, "Chloroform. That's how he knocked Sara out without alerting me," said Griffin.

Grissom used his pen to take the cloth from Griffin and looked at it closely before he clenched his jaw and handed it back to her. He left the house, pushing past Catherine who walked in with an icepack in her hand. Catherine walked over to Griffin and said as she handed her the icepack, "I heard you got hit over the head."

Griffin smiled but winced when she placed the icepack to the base of her skull.

Catherine gave her a compassionate look and said, "You should have the paramedics look at that, they're busy looking at Officer Dean right now.

"Is he all right?" asked Griffin.

"Lander knocked him pretty hard over the head, so the paramedics are taking him to the hospital. Seriously though, you should let them check you out, you could have a concussion."

Griffin shook her head and handed the icepack back to Catherine and said, "I'll get it looked at when Sara is safe at home."

"It's dangerous to wait," warned Catherine.

"Exactly, it's dangerous to wait while the paramedics waste my time just to tell me I've got a bump on the head!" said Griffin.

Griffin spun around and braced herself against the wall.

"Rule number six, Bauer," Griffin growled to herself, "Always watch your partner's back before you cover your own ass."

"Griffin," said Catherine laying a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, "you can't blame yourself for this."

Griffin gently shrugged Catherine's hand off her shoulder and said, "Yes, I can. I shouldn't have let my guard down the way I did. I didn't even get time to draw my gun."

Catherine was about to say something, but Griffin cut her off by asking, "Is Nick looking for tyre treads?"

Catherine nodded her head and said, "Yes, he found some acceleration marks."

"But we have Lander's car. Where did he get another car from?" asked Griffin.

"That," said Catherine "is a very good question."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Six hours had passed and Grissom and the team had struck one dead end after another. Six hours and they were no closer to finding Sara than before. Grissom couldn't shake the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach since the moment he'd heard Sara had been taken. He had to find her. He couldn't be too late.

"Grissom?"

Grissom looked up and saw Griffin standing in his door way.

"Come in, Griffin," he said. Griffin walked in and sat down. She looked exhausted. A Band-Aid had been place over the cut on her forehead, but it was now almost completely soaked through with blood.

"Why hasn't someone looked at that laceration on your head?" Grissom asked, concerned.

Griffin touched her head and winced. "It's fine; I hit my head on the shelf when that bastard knocked me out."

Grissom stood and went over to a cupboard that stood in the corner of his office. He opened it and pulled out a first aid kit. Walking back to Griffin he knelt in front of her and said, "It's not going to be okay when it gets infected." He opened the first aid kit and pulled out a pair of latex gloves, before he got out some disinfectant and a cotton swab. Grissom pulled the Band-Aid away and Griffin winced slightly. He dipped the swab into the disinfectant then straightened. He placed his hand on the right side of Griffin's neck and gently cleaned the two inch gash.

Looking up at Griffin, Grissom said, "You're going to need stitches."

Griffin nodded and Grissom reached back into the bag and pulled out a packet with a sterilized needle and some medical thread. He reached back into the bag and produced a bottle of anaesthetic with a syringe.

"You have anaesthetic in your first aid kit?" asked Griffin.

Grissom gave a small smile as stuck the syringe needle into the bottle and filled it with the clear fluid. "Always pays to be prepared," said Grissom as he stuck the syringe into the gash and pushed the anaesthetic into the wound.

As Grissom was stitching, Griffin focused on his face. She was silent for a few moments then said in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

Grissom's hands stilled for a moment then he asked, "For what?"

"For not keeping Sara safe."

Grissom didn't look at her, but he replied, "It wasn't your job to keep her safe. Of all the people I know, Sara can take care of herself the best."

"But it was my job. I have the skills, the know-how, and the gun. I should have kept her safe," said Griffin.

Grissom, stopped, looked at her. He slipped a finger underneath her chin and coaxed her to look up at him before he said in a gentle voice, "It's my job to make sure my people are kept safe, Griffin. I'm the one responsible for her safety...and yours."

Grissom finished stitching Griffin up and he snipped the thread before he placed a Band-Aid over the wound.

"Disinfect that twice a day, the stitches can come out in three weeks," he said as he stripped off his gloves.

"Thanks," said Griffin.

"I see you've managed to lose a CSI, Grissom," said a snarky voice from Grissom's door.

"Culpepper," growled Grissom, "What do you want?"

Culpepper entered Grissom's office, "Why to get our precious Sara back, of course. Seeing as how you were so concerned with her safety during the Strip Strangler case, I'm surprised you put her in this kind of situation again, Gil."

Upon seeing Culpepper's smart ass, arrogant smile, Grissom saw red. Without actually realising what he was doing, Grissom balled his hand into a fist, stepped forward and punched Culpepper in the face. Griffin gave a startled jump.

Culpepper touched his mouth and his hand came away bloody.

"You're going to regret that, Grissom," he spat as he stepped forward. Griffin jumped between the two men and pushed the FBI agent away and laid a restraining hand on Grissom's chest. She looked Grissom in the eyes for a moment, making sure he was under control, before she turned her back to him and addressed Culpepper.

"Walk away, Culpepper," warned Griffin.

"Like hell," snarled Culpepper taking another step forward. Griffin held up her hands and looked up at him.

"You wanna get your ass kicked by a girl as well?" she asked. Culpepper glared down at her for a few more seconds before he lifted his eyes to Grissom and said, "This isn't over, Grissom."

And with that he left.

Grissom sighed and rubbed his sore hand.

"What the hell was that?" Griffin yelled.

Grissom sighed and said, "I'm sorry, I just lost my cool."

"Are you trying to destroy your hand?" the young woman said, "If you're gonna slug someone, keep your thumb on the inside of her fist, or you'll end up breaking your hand."

Grissom looked at her incredulously. "Wait, you aren't yelling at me because I assaulted an FBI agent?"

Griffin snorted, "Please, I've wanted to do that the first day I met that asshole. By the sounds of it he has a history of putting Sara in danger."

Grissom chuckled, but his face darkened.

Griffin got up; "I'd better get back to work." She paused at the door and said, "I'll find her, Grissom. I promise."

And she left.

**CSICSICSICSI**

"What more can I possibly tell you that I haven't already?"

Vanessa looked worse than the last time Griffin had seen her. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was barely held back with an elastic band, her clothes were mismatched and wrinkled. She had bruise-like bags underneath her eyes and her cheeks looked pale.

"I need you to tell me," said Griffin, "Where Derrick Lander would go, if he needed some place to hide."

Vanessa looked at her with her haggard eyes and said, "I haven't seen the guy in over ten years."

"I understand, Mrs. Barett, but you grew up here. You know Derrick better than anyone. Please, he's...he's taken my friend, and I have to find her," pleaded Griffin. Vanessa was quiet for a few minutes.

"Derrick loved mountain biking. He would spend weekends out by Lake Mead cycling and hiking. He took me there once," said Vanessa.

"Where in particular?" pressed Griffin.

Vanessa shook her head and said, "I don't know. It was night, and I didn't pay much attention to directions."

Griffin gave a frustrated sigh.

"I do know," said Vanessa and Griffin looked up, "That he owned the cabin we stayed in."

Vanessa sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

"Mrs. Barett...did Derrick ever get...violent...with you?" Griffin asked.

Vanessa was quiet for a moment; she then sat forward and folded her arms on the table. "Not with me. After about five months, he began to...change. He became angry and violent towards other people. He started to become rougher in bed..."

"But he never hurt you?"

Vanessa shook her head.

There was a knock on the door and Griffin looked up at it. She turned back to Vanessa and excused herself before she exited the break room. Catherine was waiting for her, seeming slightly frantic.

Griffin didn't wait for Catherine to speak, but immediately said, "Catherine, I need you check into property owned by Lander. Vanessa said he took her to a cabin out by Lake Mead. She said that he _owned_ the cabin."

"Yeah, I'll get someone to look into it, but Griffin, listen! Lander just contacted Grissom via Skype. He's placing his demands _right now_ in the AV room."

Griffin looked at her for a second then she took off running. She raced down the hall and into the AV room. The whole team was gathered and Catherine entered right in behind her. Grissom stood in front of the huge TV screen. Lander was displayed there; his eyes looked wild and he had a dark stubble on his cheeks.

"Calm down, Lander, we can work something out," Grissom was saying.

"No," said Lander aiming his gun at them, "This is how it's is gonna go down. In two hours you are going to bring five hundred thousand dollars in large bills. If I see so much as a shadow that looks like a cop before those two hours are up and I'll shoot the bitch."

"Okay, okay, Derrick. We can get you your money, but it's going to take some time," reasoned Grissom.

Lander shook his head and said, "Two hours, fifteen miles east of highway 147."

"How do I know she's still alive, Lander?" asked Grissom.

Lander sniffed and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, which also held the gun. He took a step back and said, "You wanna see her?"

Grissom nodded his head and said, "That would go a long way."

Lander nodded looked to his left then stepped aside revealing Sara. She was tied to a wooden chair, her hands behind her back and her feet bound to the legs of the chair. Her head hung limp and her hair served as a veil, covering her face. Lander walked behind her, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her head back.

"Sara?" said Grissom. Her forehead was covered with sheen of sweat and her top lip was split on the left side and swollen. There was a gash on her left eyebrow and a bruise on her left cheek. The bastard had hit her.

Sara slowly opened her eyes and said in a hoarse voice, "Grissom?"

"Hang in there, Sara. We're coming to get you," said Grissom desperately.

Lander shoved Sara's head forward and walked back to screen. He pointed his gun at them again and said, "Two hours, five hundred grand. If I see that other bitch anywhere near here I'll blow your CSI's brains out." The screen went blank.


	14. Chapter 14

**I want to thank you, Leona, for your review. I understand your concerns, and I will try my best to clear up the confusion. Here's the thing. This story is not what it might appear to be, as we continue you will see that. Griffin is already an experienced CSI (This is my first fan fiction). To be honest I never considered the fact that she should probably only shadow the team. That wouldn't fit in with my story in anyway. So, let me put it this way. Griffin is an employee of the lab, what Catherine was referring to when she wanted to know if Griffin would get the job is Griffin wanted Grissom to choose her to be part of the team. She didn't want to just walk in and be the new girl that was just assigned to the team. My main point in this story is to introduce Griffin's character. Griffin has a very complicated past, and it would make this story very drawn out if I go into it now, so I will reveal more in the next story. This is an AU story and it will be a little confusing in the beginning. As I said, I'm always grateful for the reviews, and I wanted to let you know that I love the CSI characters and I would never want to misrepresent them in my stories. I'm sorry if I have done that, I will try and make it better.**

**Thanks,**

**IronAngel 240.**

Derrick Lander disconnected the webcam and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He sniffed and turned to look at the CSI over his shoulder.

_Congratulations, Lander_, he thought, _you've really gone and done it now._

Derrick began to pace the house nervously. He looked back at his prisoner who was starting to regain consciousness. Derrick's eyes grazed over her bruised face. The words of the other cop repeated in his head in the same deadly calm tone, _"If you harm a single hair on her head, I swear to you, I won't rest until I put a bullet in your head." _

Well, he'd done a _hell_ of a lot more than harm a single hair. The cop had woken up when he'd tried to remove her from the car and he'd had to use...brute force to subdue her. A shiver ran down Derrick's spine as he thought of the other CSI. Her dark eyes had been daggers, her stare murderous, her words menacing. Derrick had no doubt she'd be perfectly capable in carrying out her threat. Lander growled and stomped over to one of the sofas and plonked down on one of them. The gun felt heavy in his hand and sweat slid down his right temple. How could he have been so _stupid_?! Lander could blame killing Michael and Kimmy on the drugs, but kidnapping the cop? He'd done that stone, cold sober. He wished he had some cocaine now. The effects of the drugs would be the perfect balm for his frayed nerves.

Everything would be okay once he had his money. Derrick would quietly slip over the border into Mexico and live on the beach. He wished that there was a scenario in which Vanessa joined him, and the two of them started a life together. That had always been Derrick's dream: to settle down with Vanessa...maybe have some kids. But he knew she would never forgive him for what he'd done. She would never forgive him for what he'd done to Kimmy. And Derrick didn't expect her to, which made it all the worse.

"Mr. Lander?" said the cop.

Lander sniffed again and said in an irritated voice, "What?"

"It's not too late to let me go," she said. Her voice was kind of breathless and hoarse.

Derrick snorted and said, "It's way too late for that, Lady."

The cop shook her head and said, "It's never too late to do the right thing."

Lander shook his head and smirked at her. "That's such a 'cop' thing to say."

"I'm not a cop," she said in a clipped tone, "I'm a crime scene investigator. I'm a scientist."

"Whatever," Derrick snorted, "a cop by any other name is still a cop."

The cop gave a weary sigh.

Derrick just shook his head and looked down at the gun, which he was slowly and surely starting to hate with a passion.

"Would Vanessa want you to do this?" she asked.

Lander froze; he then ground his teeth to keep his irritation in check. He didn't want to lose it and hit her again. "I did all this _for_ Vanessa!"

"But she wouldn't want you to do something so...dangerous," the cop reasoned.

"Love makes you do weird things sometime," said Lander in a quiet voice.

"Vanessa and me? We're a match made in heaven...completely perfect for each other," said Lander. "We should have been together...Kimmy should have been _my_ daughter."

"Then why did you hurt her, Derrick?" she asked.

Lander was silent for a few moments then he said, "You know what I think? I think that...'love' is an illusion. People shouldn't kid themselves. Love is one big lie. It's a trick that 'God' made up just to ensure you get your heart ripped out."

The cop stayed silent, and Lander walked over to the window and peered out of it.

"You better hope your friends get their ducks in a row in time," he said looking back at her.

The cop looked up at him and he said, "I'd hate to use your own gun to blow your pretty brains out."

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Archie?" asked Grissom.

Archie looked up and said, "Sorry, Grissom. He was jamming his signal."

Grissom slammed the flat of his hand against the table.

"The bastard hit her," said Griffin, rage boiling beneath her cool exterior.

Grissom hung his head in despair.

"It's going to be okay, Grissom," said Catherine walking over to him and laying a hand on his back soothingly, "We'll pay the ransom and get Sara back."

"That's the problem, Catherine. We don't have the ransom money," said Grissom, his head still bowed.

"What do you mean?" asked Nick.

Grissom lifted his head, turned and looked at his team. "The city won't pay out the money, because it's against Department policy to negotiate with terrorists."

Everyone fell silent.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Warrick.

"What _can_ we do, Warrick?" asked Grissom. "If Lander sees a police car within a hundred yards of the drop off zone, our goose is cooked. Without the money, we're screwed."

"Then we'll have the money."

Everyone turned and looked at Griffin.

"Have you not been listening?" Grissom asked.

"Oh, I've been listening, and here's my plan. We do exactly what Lander wants. A human life is too precious to gamble with. Grissom, continue with the instructions, be in place for when the time comes to make the drop," said Griffin.

"And what about the money?" asked Grissom.

"Don't worry about it, leave it to me," said Griffin. She turned to Nick and said, "You're coming with me, I'm going to need your help."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin and Nick walked briskly in the parking lot towards Griffin's Jeep. Griffin tossed the keys to Nick, who caught it with one hand.

"Where are we going?" asked Nick opening the door of the driver's side.

Griffin hopped into the passenger's seat saying, "The bank, and drive as fast as you can. I have some phone calls to make."

Nick ploughed through the traffic like a maniac and all the while Griffin was on the phone. A small part of Nick's mind, the part that wasn't focused on rescuing Sara, noted that this was a beautiful car and that there was no way he'd ever be able to afford it on his salary. They made it to the bank in record time. The moment the car stopped, Griffin had her door open and she jumped out.

"Stay here and keep the car running," she ordered and ran into the bank. From the car Nick watched as she was greeted by a mature man in an expensive suit. They shook hands and the man gestured for Griffin to enter into his glassed wall office. This took them out of Nick's sight, so he sat in the running car with the windows rolled down. It felt like hours before Griffin exited the bank with a brown, leather duffel bag in her hand. She ran towards the car and ripped the door open. She then threw the duffel bag onto the back seat and strapped on her seat belt. Griffin looked at him and said, "Drive!"

Nick put the car into gear and sped out of the bank's parking lot.

"Where to now?" he asked.

"We're going to meet up with Grissom about eight miles from the drop-off zone. So seven miles off highway 147," said Griffin as she slipped her black Ray Banns on.

Nick looked into his rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of the duffel bag. "Is that the money?" he asked.

"Yes," said Griffin.

"What you do? Rob the bank?" Nick asked.

Griffin shook her head and said, "Don't worry about it, Nick."

Nick looked at her from the corner of his eye, but he remained silent.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom paced the width of the small dirt road where they had set up there command post. The bitterly cold wind stung his cheeks. He turned the collar of his coat up to ward it off. They were about eight miles away from the drop-off zone, and Grissom didn't want to take any chances. There were no LED lights and no sirens, it was completely low key. Griffin had been right when she said that a human life was too precious to gamble with, and he agreed with that completely, but he knew that there was no way he would gamble with Sara's life. She was too precious. Grissom glanced at his watch; he had fifteen minutes before he had to meet Lander.

There was no sign of Nick and Griffin, and no sign of the five hundred thousand dollars. Just then Grissom heard the sound of a car engine and he looked up to see a black Jeep making its way towards the command post. The Jeep stopped where the other cars had been parked and Nick jumped out from the driver's side and Griffin from the passenger's side. Griffin opened the door to the back seat and pulled out a brown, leather duffel bag. She hoisted it over her shoulder and walked over with Nick at her side.

Griffin dumped the bag at Grissom's feet. He eyed her before he knelt by the bag and zipped it open. Inside were fifty, ten thousand dollar bricks. Grissom looked up at Griffin and she said, "No tracker, no dye, no games."

Grissom zipped the bag closed, picked it up, straightened and asked, "Where did you get this?"

Griffin looked at him from behind her Ray Banns and said, "It was donated to the lab anonymously."

Grissom eyed her suspiciously, but she didn't seem to feel the need to share with him the details. Griffin quirked an eyebrow at him and said, "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Grissom narrowed his eyes, swung the bag over his shoulder and called out, "Brass!"

Brass looked up from a map that was spread out on the hood of his car. She walked over to them and Grissom said, "It's time. I've got the money."

"I still don't like the idea of you going in there alone, Grissom," Brass said.

"Lander said I must come alone, so alone I shall come," said Grissom.

"Like hell!" said Griffin, "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not, Griffin," said Grissom.

"Grissom –"

"No, Griffin!" said Grissom firmly, "I'm going alone."

With that Grissom turned and walked over to his Denali and climbed in. He started the engine and drove off.

Griffin glared at the Denali as it disappeared down the road, before she spun on her heel and stormed off to her Jeep.

"Griffin?" said Nick in a wary voice as she turned. When she began to walk towards her car Nick started after her.

"Griffin, what are you doing?" he asked. She ignored him and yanked the driver's side door open. She pulled the keys from the ignition and hit a button on the remote, popping the trunk. She tossed the keys onto the driver's seat and walked around to the trunk. Nick followed her. Griffin yanked the carpet of the trunk out of the way; and then pressed down on the exposed floor. A piece of the trunk's floor popped open revealing a compartment. Griffin pushed the lid up and pulled out a long case that lay flat inside. She closed the lid and replaced the carpet before she placed the case on the floor of the trunk.

"What is that?" asked Nick guardedly.

Griffin flicked the latches of the case up and opened the lid. Inside, lying on a bed of velvet that lined the inside of the case...was a sniper rifle.

"What _is_ that?" repeated Nick, his eyes bulging.

"This," said Griffin picking up the gun "is the M-21 sniper rifle . . . 308 calibre, 5 round detachable box magazine.Rotating bolt, gas operated, air cooled, semi-automatic magazine fed rifle, 11.25 lbs,44.1" long.Match Grade 22 inches 1:10 RH twist, specially tuned 4 1/2 pound match two-stage military trigger. Redfield/Leatherwood 3-9x Automatic Ranging Telescope,900 yards maximum effective range."

Nick whistled appreciatively. Griffin looked at him and smiled saying, "Pretty sweet, huh?"

Nick nodded, still mesmerized by the gun.

"And you just have this lying around in your trunk?"

Griffin turned and saw that Brass had joined them. Griffin ignored him and began loading her rifle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" demanded Brass.

"What does it look like? I'm going to cover Grissom," said Griffin as she loaded the last bullet.

"Lander told Grissom to come _alone_," reminded Brass.

"And he will be alone. The beautiful thing about _this_ baby is that the guy won't know what hit him or even from where. He won't even know he was hit because he'd be dead," said Griffin.

Brass just looked at Griffin. Griffin rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and gave an exasperated sigh. "Would you have Grissom go in with no back up?"

Brass narrowed his eyes and said, "There's a hill, about 800 yards away from the drop-off zone, with an eagle's eye view. Will that do?"

Griffin nodded and said, "That will do."


	15. Chapter 15

**So it's almost Christmas and I just went on holiday so I'm feeling generous. Here is the last few chapters of Murder One. Don't worry I will be back soon with the next installment of my Guardian series.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

Grissom cut the engine and just sat in the car for a few moments, preparing himself. He was parked outside a simple, log-cabin built next to a small, man-made pond. Trees were dotted here and there, but the landscape was, otherwise, utterly exposed. Grissom saw a curtain flicker inside the cabin and he decided it was time. He grabbed the duffel bag that rested on the passenger's seat and opened the driver's side door. He got out of the Denali and waited. For what, he did not know. The door to the cabin slid open with a tortured squeak. Grissom took a deep breath and made his way over to the cabin. The desert sand driveway crunched beneath his feet as he walked up to the porch. He ascended the two steps and paused at the door.

The door stood wide open and Grissom could see inside. The first thing he saw was Sara – alive, thank God. Lander had his left arm wrapped around Sara's neck and his right hand held a gun to her right temple.

"Unholster your gun and drop it into the flower pot!" growled Lander. Grissom slowly held up his right hand and transferred the bag to it, he then reached down with his left hand and unholstered his Glock and threw it into the flower pot that was next to the door. He slowly lowered his hands to his sides.

"Come in and shut the door."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin hunkered down on the grassy hill. She then set up the stand for her rifle and secured the rifle in place. Griffin checked the wind speed and direction. She calculated the range and took note of the barometric pressure. Looking through the scope, she aimed it at the cabin. Griffin smiled when she saw that a curtain had been left open. It gave her a perfect vantage point. Through the scope she could see Lander holding Sara around the neck and pressing a gun to her head. He seemed to be talking to someone, and judging from the Denali that was parked outside, Griffin assumed it was Grissom. Griffin clenched her jaw in raw fury as she manoeuvred the target until Lander's head fit nicely in the centre of the cross hairs.

"I warned you, Lander," she said to herself as she placed her finger on the trigger and gently began to squeeze.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom entered the cabin, without turning his back to Lander; he pushed the door shut with his foot. Lander had Sara in a chokehold with a gun pressed against her neck.

"Sara, are you alright?" asked Grissom nervously.

Sara shrugged, "Same old, same old."

Lander pressed the gun harder against her head and hissed through his teeth, "You don't talk to her, you talk to _me_!"

Grissom held up a placating hand and said calmly, "Alright, alright, Derrick. Relax, I'm talking to you."

Lander nodded his head and asked, "Do you have my money?"

Grissom held up the bag and said, "Right, here."

"Drop it," ordered Lander.

Gesturing to Sara, Grissom said, "Let her go first."

Lander, still holding Sara around the neck, waved the gun in the air and said, "This isn't a negotiation, asshole. Now drop the bag and slide it over!"

"If only all our politicians were as diplomatic as you," mumbled Sara.

"I said, _Shut Up_!" growled Lander.

Grissom through Sara a warning glance, silently begging her to remain quiet, not that she _ever_ listened to him. Grissom lowered the bag to the ground, bending at his knees. The bag landed on the ground with a heavy thump.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Back at the command post, Brass was pacing, waiting for news from Grissom. Nick was standing staring off into space and Warrick and Catherine were doing pretty much the same thing. Brass was feeling irritated with their impassiveness and the irritation grew with every silent second that ticked by.

"That's it," said Brass pulling his gun from his holster and checking the magazine.

Nick, startled, straightened and said, "Brass, what are you doing?"

"He's taking too long. Grissom is either dead or in serious trouble, and I'm going in," said Brass waving a uniform over. The officer approached and said, "Yes, sir?"

"Assemble the men, we're going in," ordered Brass.

"Yes, Captain."

"Brass, please. Give Grissom some more time," pleaded Catherine.

"I've given him enough time with this psychopath," said Brass.

"Griffin is keeping an eye on him, Brass," said Warrick.

"Do you really trust an eighteen year old kid with your Boss _and_ your co-worker's life?" Brass asked.

Everyone remained silent.

"I thought so," Brass said. He then turned to his men and said, "Saddle up!"

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin removed her eye from the scope and looked down into the valley. Something caught her eye outside the cabin, so she adjusted the scope and moved its focus. The cops were moving in, with Brass leading them.

She removed her eye from the scope and said in an exasperated voice, "Brass, what the hell are you_ doing_?!"

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Open it!" Lander ordered.

"God, you could at least have taken a breath mint before this," quipped Sara as she tried to lean away slightly. Lander yelled and punched her in her side. Sara yelped in pain and Grissom surged forward, but Lander simply pointed the gun at Grissom who had no other choice but to freeze.

"I said: Open it!" ordered Lander.

Grissom knelt by the bag and zipped it open. Lander looked into the bag and asked, "There a tracker in there or something?"

"No, Derrick," said Grissom calmly, "No tricks. Just take the money and let Sara go."

Lander slowly started to relax his grip on the gun and asked, "Is...is Vanessa...alright?"

Grissom wasn't sure how to respond so he said hesitantly, "She's...coping."

Lander sniffed and said, "I loved her so much."

"I know, Derrick," Grissom said gently, he struggled to keep his eyes on Lander and not drift towards Sara.

"But that idiot husband of hers had to go and ruin everything!" Lander yelled. "When she told me she was married, that she didn't want me anymore, my heart tore in half. I have never felt anything so painful in my life. The only reason I got through my prison sentence was by thinking of her."

"Love can get you through a lot of things," whispered Grissom, his eyes flicking to Sara. Her chestnut eyes, so full of fire and tenacity, were locked on his. Grissom tore his eyes away from hers and focused on Lander.

"When I left her office, I drove around for a while then went home and did a few lines. The drugs helped with the heart ache and that's when I got angry. Not at Vanessa, never at her, but at that asshole husband of hers. He was the reason she didn't want me anymore!"

Grissom held up his hands in a placating manner and said, "Your right, Derrick. Why don't you put the gun down and we can talk about this."

Lander seemed to not have heard Grissom, and he continued with his tirade, "I never wanted to hurt Kimmy."

"Then why did you take her, Derrick?" Grissom asked. His eyes dropped to Sara who was still in a chokehold in Lander's arms.

"I thought I could play the hero. You know, find Kimmy in the desert, left there by some deranged maniac," Lander wiped his face again with the back of his hand, the one that held the gun.

"But something went wrong?" Grissom pushed, hoping that if he kept Lander talking he could somehow talk him out of this.

"She wouldn't stop crying! For almost ten hours straight, she just cried and cried and cried. I couldn't take it anymore! I took some more cocaine to try and...cope with what I did, but she just wouldn't stop crying! I just wanted her to be quiet, so I went over to her and the little bitch scratched me! I was so mad and...High, I didn't think about what I was doing. I grabbed a bicycle chain off my bench and wrapped it around her throat. She struggled for a bit, but then she went still...so still," Lander looked up at Grissom and repeated in a whisper, "I never intended to hurt her."

"I believe you, Derrick," said Grissom gently. Grissom raised his hand, palm down and said, "Just put the gun down. You don't want to hurt anyone else."

Lander slowly lowered his gun. Suddenly, there was a flash by the window and Lander looked up just in time to see a uniform run past. Quick as lightning he tightened his grip on Sara and swung the gun in Grissom direction.

Pointing his gun at Grissom, Lander yelled, "You son of a bitch! You trying to trick me?!"

"Derrick, just calm down," said Grissom.

From outside the cabin, Brass called, "Derrick Lander? LVPD! We have a warrant for your arrest. Release your hostages and come out, unarmed, with your hands behind your head!"

Still pointing his gun at Grissom, Lander started shaking and his face was filled with fear. "Tell them to stand down or I'll _shoot_ her," Lander aimed the gun against Sara's head again. Sara tried to struggle but Lander just tightened his grip around her neck.

Grissom said, "Alright, just don't hurt her, please." He then said in a louder voice, "Brass, its Grissom. Back the _hell_ off."

There was no reply which made Grissom very nervous.

Lander looked anxiously at the door then back at Grissom. By the look on his face, Grissom knew that Lander had made his mind up about something, and Grissom was pretty sure he wasn't going to like it.

"I'm not getting out of this, am I?" Lander asked loosening his grip on Sara.

"Derrick, just let Sara go and maybe we can make a deal," reasoned Grissom.

Lander shook his head and said, "No, there are no deals to be made. You already violated our deal."

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion to Grissom. Sara saw her chance and elbowed Lander in his stomach and dived out of the way just as a window to the left of them shattered and a mist of blood exploded like a fountain from Lander's head. The bullet entered the left side of his temple, exited the right side and hit the far wall. Brass and his team burst in, guns drawn. Grissom was frozen for a moment and in that moment he looked out the window and saw a lone figure standing on a hill about 800 yards away. The sun glinted off something metallic in her hand. She then turned and disappeared.

Grissom shook his head and hurried over to Sara who was struggling to get to her feet. He knelt beside her and cradled her face in his hands searching for any injuries. Other than a few cuts and bruises she looked fine.

"Are you okay?" Grissom asked.

"Dumb question," said Sara in a hoarse voice.

Grissom smiled; she was fine. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and said gently, "Let's get you home."


	16. Chapter 16

Grissom sat back in his comfortable, leather, office chair. The springs groaned in protest after years of abuse. He rolled his head back and forth satisfied to hear the tell tale clicks of the stress of the last couple of days being worked out of his neck and shoulders. The glass he held coated his hand with a layer of condensation that was refreshingly cool to the touch. As a general rule, Grissom didn't drink alcohol, but after the week he had had, Grissom had decided to make an exception. The whisky had been a present from Brass a few years ago. It had been sitting in Grissom's office mostly untouched.

Grissom took a sip of the silky fluid and enjoyed the burning trail it created down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. He had turned the lights off to counter act the massive headache that was plaguing him (not that the alcohol would do him much good in that regard). The only illumination in his office was the small lamp on his desk. Grissom looked at his desk, which was strewed with the paperwork he was avoiding. Now that the adrenalin rush had faded, the full realization about what had just happened hit him and panic started to settle in. He hadn't had the luxury for panic, Sara had been missing.

Sara. Passionate, tenacious, Sara, who had stolen his heart the first day she'd walked into his classroom. She could heal his torn heart with one glance...one smile. But she was beautiful and young. Too young for an old man like himself. She deserved someone equally young and vigorous. Someone who could fulfil every fantasy she had, who could sweep her off her feet and share everything that lay on his heart with her. She deserved more than Grissom could give her. But, God, what happened today had been a fulfilment of Grissom's worst nightmares. If Griffin hadn't been there (Though where in hell Griffin had managed to get a sniper rifle at her age Grissom didn't know.)...Grissom didn't know where he'd be right now. Most likely in the morgue...staring down at Sara's corpse.

Grissom looked up and saw Sara standing in the doorway, more beautiful than any image he could ever conjure up in his mind. She had a Band-Aid over the cut on her left eyebrow, and the swelling on her lip had begun to go down slightly.

"Hi," he said.

She leaned against the door post and said, "Hey."

"You want to come in? I've got whisky," said Grissom, the ice clinking as he raised the glass. Sara smiled, entered his office. He poured her a drink and handed it to her.

"How are you feeling?" Grissom asked.

"I'm alright," said Sara taking a sip of her drink.

Grissom looked hard at her and asked, "Are you, Sara? Are you really?"

Sara didn't look up from the glass that she held in her lap, she just shrugged and said, "You know me. I'll get over it."

"Sara," said Grissom gently, "Don't bottle it up."

Sara looked up at him and asked, "What do you want me to say, Grissom? What can you do about it in anyway?"

"I could listen," said Grissom.

"That's what a shrink's there for," Sara smirked, lifting her glass to her lips, "and I've got an appointment with one tomorrow."

"Friends are also there for that," said Grissom quietly.

"Friends?" asked Sara.

Grissom frowned slightly at her tone, "Yes, friends. Like Nick... or Hank," Grissom referring to her paramedic boyfriend.

"Hank," said Sara in a disappointed voice, "Sure."

"Are things well with the two of you?" asked Grissom.

Sara looked down into her lap and pushed her hair behind her shoulder before she gave a sad smile and said quietly, "We're fine."

"Good. Because you know," said Grissom leaning forward on his arms, "I care about what happens to you."

"You care about what _happens_ to me," said Sara bitterly as she swallowed her drink in one gulp.

Grissom frowned, this time deeper, "Naturally, I care about what happens to you. You were, and are, one of my most talented students."

"And one of your most difficult," reminded Sara with a sarcastic smile.

Grissom shrugged and said, "Brilliance doesn't like to be chained."

Sara cracked her first small, genuine smile.

"All jokes aside, Sara," said Grissom seriously, "I've always trusted you, because you've always been there for me to trust."

"That's deep," Sara sipped at her drink.

Grissom shook his head and took another sip of his drink before he sighed and said, "Sara, I need your help."

"With what?" asked Sara.

"I need to make a decision concerning Griffin."

Sara placed her glass on Grissom's desk, and said, "Why ask me? Why not ask Catherine? Your 'Right Hand'?"

"Because you've spent more time with Griffin in the field," answered Grissom.

"Not by choice, mind you," said Sara aiming a pointed look at him.

Grissom gave a half smile.

Sara rolled her eyes, sat back in her chair and waited for him to continue.

"So what do you think of her?" he asked. Grissom leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together.

Sara looked down at her lap and pushed her brown hair behind her ear before she said, "I think...that she's fully competent at a crime scene. She obviously knows what she's doing, though her skills could use some refining. There's a unique characteristic I see in her, though."

"And that is?" probed Grissom.

"As CSIs," Sara explained, "We always go for the most extravagant solution, the most 'out there' theory. Griffin has one of the most creative minds I have ever encountered. Not only can she think outside the box she can think _inside_ the box, and sometimes that's more useful. We're often trying so hard to see what's beyond the horizon we forget to look right in front of us."

That last comment seemed to Grissom to have a double meaning. He sat back in his chair and studied Sara for a few moments before he asked, "You're not biased are you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him in that tenacious way he loved so much.

"Are you saying this," continued Grissom, "because you truly believe this girl has talent...or because she saved your life?"

Sara looked down at her lap for a moment before she said, "Both."

"Well, at least you're honest," said Grissom.

Looking up at Grissom, Sara said, "Griffin is young, yes, but she isn't rash or quick to act. She's meticulous, analyzing each problem before she solves it. She thinks before she speaks and she speaks the truth."

Grissom smiled and said, "Wise words bring many benefits, and hard work brings rewards."

Sara frowned not recognizing the quote and hazarded a guess, "Shakespeare?"

"King Solomon, actually," said a voice behind Sara. Grissom looked up and Sara turned her head to see Griffin standing in the doorway.

"It's a proverb he wrote in the Bible," explained Griffin.

She was back in her black, leather jacket and her satchel hung across her body. She had a backpack slung across her right shoulder and she held the strap with her right hand. Her left hand was hidden in her pants pocket and her Ray Banns rested on the crown of her head.

"Well, done," said Grissom, once again impressed.

The side of Griffin's mouth tipped up slightly.

"IAB done with you, yet?" Grissom asked.

Griffin nodded and said, "I've been cleared."

"That was an impressive shot," admitted Grissom.

"Thank you," Griffin replied.

"Where did you learn to shoot a sniper rifle?" he asked.

"Here and there," Griffin said vaguely.

Grissom narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

"You taking a trip?" asked Sara gesturing with her chin to Griffin's backpack.

Griffin nodded her head and said, "Yeah, I'm on my way back to Miami."

"Miami? Why?" asked Sara in a shocked voice.

As Griffin entered into Grissom's office she slipped her hand out of her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest.

"There is no reason for me to stay," she answered, "I came here for a job interview and seeing as how I haven't heard from the boss, I deduce that I didn't get the job. My old position is waiting for me in Miami, so I won't be left out on the streets."

Sara gave Grissom a pointed look and Grissom sighed before asking Griffin, "Do you really think you'll be an asset to this team?"

Griffin shrugged and replied, "It really doesn't matter what I think, sir."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at her and said, "Oh?"

"It only matters if _you_ think I will make an asset. Because if you don't think so...the point is moot," said Griffin.

Sara didn't even bother to try and hide her smile, it was impossible. Grissom looked at Sara and shook his head before he gathered up an armful of files and walked to the door. He paused to in the doorway, leaned against the door and said, "Okay, kid. You're hired."

And with that he left.

Sara got up, still smiling and walked over to Griffin. Sara didn't say anything; she just reached into her back pocket and pulled out her forensics baseball cap. Sara unfolded it and handed it to Griffin.

Griffin looked down at the wrinkled cap, and then up at Sara.

Sara smiled and said, "Welcome to the team."

As Sara walked out the room Griffin looked down at the cap in her hand and grinned, because to her it sounded like, "Welcome home."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Sara was exhausted. It had been a week from hell and all she wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower. As she walked towards her car she silently cursed the swing shift who had taken up all the parking near the entrance, forcing her to park near the alleyway next to the lab earlier. Sara was about ten feet from her car when a strange chill ran down her back. It was the same chill she'd felt just before Lander had attacked her. Sara spun around and scanned the parking lot. The parking lot was cloaked in darkness, and of course the street lamps were all busted on this side of the lab. She couldn't see anyone, but (she wasn't sure if it was her imagination) the shadows seemed to get even darker, and slowly move towards her. Sara hurried to her car. But the cold feeling got worse, her instincts telling her to do one thing: _Run_.

Sara quickly tried to fish her keys from her pocket, but she was shaking so badly, her pulse racing, that she dropped them.

"Shit!" she cussed as she bent to retrieve them. At that moment, the shadows rushed at her. Suddenly, the alley was lit up in a brilliant light and the shadows fled. Sara shielded her eyes with her hands and the cold feeling left her spine. A figure stepped in front of the light and walked over to Sara.

"Are you okay?" the figure asked.

Sara breathed a sigh of relief as she saw it was Griffin, with her car behind them, the headlights on.

"Yeah," said Sara with a breathless laugh, she bent and retrieved her keys, "I just dropped my keys."

Griffin studied Sara with her fathomless dark eyes, before she nodded and stepped aside, "Okay, well get home safe. And get some rest."  
>Sara smiled and got into her car and drove away.<p>

As she left Griffin turned towards the alley and squared her shoulders.

"Reveal yourselves," she said in a voice filled with authority. The shadows melted and reshaped into humanoid shapes. About half a dozen formed a circle around her. Griffin surveyed the assembly with hard eyes before she lifted her chin and spoke in a firm voice, "Here me, Servants of Darkness. This human woman is under _my_ protection."

The shadows hissed in unison. One separated itself from the group and rushed Griffin. Quicker than lightning, Griffin drew her Glock; but as the gun left its holster in lengthened into a bolt of pure, golden light in Griffin's hand. As the shadow tried to claw Griffin's chest open, she side-stepped and slashed through the shadow with the bolt of light. The shadow melted into nothingness. Griffin looked up at the rest of the shadows.

"Anyone else?" she asked. The shadows hissed and backed up a little. "As I said, the woman is under my protection, as are the rest of her team. Any strike against them, is a strike against me."

The shadows backed up more, still hissing.

"Now," said Griffin as she hefted the bolt of light on her shoulder, "Be gone!"

And the shadows melted away.

Griffin breathed a sigh of relief. Sara was safe. At least for now...

**I look forward to continuing in the next story, so keep an eye out for it****. Merry Christmas.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 420.**


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